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THE FIDDLER S HOUSE: THE 
land: THOMAS MUSKERRY 



THREE PLAYS 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

THE LAND 

THOMAS MUSKERRY 

BY 

PADRAIC COLUM 



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£qWVAD-QHS 



BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 

1916 






Copynght, 1916, 
By Padraic Colum. 



All rights reserved 
Published, October, 1916 



For permission to perform these plays, apply to 
The Paget Dramatic Agency, 25 West 4Jth Street, New York City 



t . -?<sr 



OCT 27 1916 



SET UP AND ELECTROTYPED BY THE PLIjrPTON PRESS, NORWOOD, MASS., U.S.A. 
PRINTED BY S. J. PARKHILL & CO., BOSTON, MASS., U.S.A. 



•CI,A44C100 



TO MY FRIEND 
THOMAS HUGHES KELLY 
THESE THREE IRISH PLAYS 



AUTHOR'S NOTE 

I HAVE been asked to say something about the in- 
tentions and ideas that underHe the three short 
plays in this volume. 

These plays were conceived in the early days of the 
Irish National Theatre. I had been one of the group that 
formed the National Theatre Society and I wrote plays 
for players who were my colleagues and my instruct- 
ors ; I wrote them for a small, barely-furnished stage in 
a small theatre ; I wrote them, too, for an audience that 
was tremendously interested in every expression of 
national character. " The Land " was written to celebrate 
the redemption of the soil of Ireland — an event made 
possible by the Land Act of 1903. This event, as it 
represented the passing of Irish acres from an alien land- 
lordism, was considered to be of national importance. 
"The Land" also dealt with a movement that ran coun- 
ter to the rooting of the Celtic people in the soil — emi- 
gration — the emigration to America of the young and 
the fit. In " The Land " I tried to show that it was 
not altogether an economic necessity that was driving 
young men and women out of the Irish rural districts; 
the lack of life and the lack of freedom there had much 
to do with emigration. 

"The Land" touched upon a typical conflict, the con- 
flict between the individual and that which, in Ireland, 
has much authority, the family group. This particular 
conflict was shown again in "The Fiddler's House," 



viii AUTHOR'S NOTE 

where the life, not of the actual peasants, but of rural 
people with artistic and aristocratic traditions, was 
shown. 

I tried to show the same conflict working out more 
tragically in the play of middle-class life, "Thomas Mus- 
kerry." Here I went above the peasant and the wan- 
dering artist and came to the official. I had intended 
to make plays about the merchant, the landowner, the 
political and the intellectual leader and so write a chap- 
ter in an Irish Human Comedy. But while I was think- 
ing of the play that is third in this volume my connection 
with the National Theatre Society was broken off. 
"Thomas Muskerry" was produced in the Abbey 
Theatre after I had ceaSed to be a member of the group 
that had founded it. 

Padraic Colum 

New York 

August, 1916 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Author's Note vii 

The Fiddler's House 1 

The Land: An Agrarian Comedy in Three Acts 79 
Thomas Muskerry 139 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 



CHARACTERS 

Conn Hourican, a Fiddler. 
Maire (Mary)^ Hourican, his daughter. 
Anne Hourican, a younger daughter. 
Brian MacConnell, a younger farmer. 
James Moynihan, a farmer's son. 

The action passes in the Houricans' house in the 
Irish Midlands. 

^ The name is pronounced as if written "Maurya." 



ACT I 

Scene: The interior of a farmer's cottage; the kitchen. 
The entrance is at the back right. To the left is the fire- 
place, an open hearth, with a fire of peat. There is a 
room door to the right, a pace below the entrance; and 
another room door below the fire-place. Between the room 
door and the entrance there is a row of wooden pegs, on 
which men's coats hang. Below this door is a dresser 
containing pretty delph. There is a small window at 
back, a settle bed folded into a high bench; a small mirror 
hangs right of the window. A backed chair and some 
stools are about the hearth. A table to the right with cloth 
and tea things on it. The cottage looks pretty and com- 
fortable. It is towards the close of an Autumn day. 

James Moynihan has finished tea; Anne Hourican 
is at the back, seated on the settle knitting, and watching 
James. James Moynihan is about twenty-eight. He has 
a good forehead, but his face is indeterminate. He has 
been working in the fields, and is dressed in trousers, 
shirt, and heavy boots. Anne Hourican is a pretty, dark- 
haired girl of about nineteen. 

James Moynihan rises. 

ANNE 

And so you can't stay any longer, James? 
JAMES (with a certain solemnity) 

No, Anne. I told my father I'd be back while there 
was light, and I'm going back. (He goes to the rack, 
takes his coat, and puts it on him) Come over to our 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 



house to-night, Anne. I'll be watching the girls 
coming in, and thinking on yourself; there's none of 
them your match for grace and favour. My father 
wanted me to see a girl in Arvach. She has three 
hundred pounds, besides what the priest, her uncle, 
will leave her. "Father," says I, "listen to me now. 
Haven't I always worked for you like a steady, useful 
boy?" "You have," says he. "Did I ever ask you 
for anything unreasonable.''" says I. "No," says 
he. "Well then," says I, "don't ask me to do un- 
reasonable things. I'm fond of Anne Hourican, and 
not another girl will I marry. What's money, after 
all?" says I, "there's gold on the whin-bushes if you 
only knew it." And he had to leave it at that. 

ANNE 

You always bring people around. 

JAMES 

The quiet, reasonable way is the way that people 
like. 

ANNE 

Still, with all, I'm shy of going into your house. 

JAMES 

Don't doubt but there'll be a welcome before you; 
come round with Maire. 

\^Anne rises, and comes to him. She has graceful, 
bird-like movements. 
ANNE {'putting her hands on James* shoidders) 

Maybe we won't have a chance of seeing each other 

after all. 

\^James Moynihan kisses her reverently. 

JAMES 

Sit down now, Anne, because there's something I want 
to show you. Do you ever see "The Shamrock"? 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 



ANNE 

Very seldom. 

£James and Anne go to the settle; they sit down. 

JAMES 

There be good pieces in it sometimes. There's a 
poem of mine in it this week. 

ANNE 

Of yours, James? Printed, do you mean? 

JAMES 

Ay, printed. (He takes a paper out of his pocJcet, 
and opens it) It's a poem to yourself, though your 
name doesn't come into it. (Gives paper) Let no 
one see it, Anne, at least not for the present. And 
now, good-bye. 

£Goes to the door. Anne continues reading the verse 
eagerly. At the door James turns and recites: — 
When lights are failing, and skies are paling, 

And leaves are sailing a-down the air, 
O, it's then that love lifts my heart above 
My roving thoughts and my petty care; 
And though the gloom be like the tomb. 

Where there's no room for my love and me, 
O, still I'll find you, and still I'll bind you. 
My wild sweet rose of Aughnalee! 
That's the first stanza. Good-bye. 
{James goes out. Anne continues reading, then she 
leaves the paper down with a sigh. 

ANNE 

O, it's lovely! (She takes the paper up again, rises 
and goes to the door. She remains looking out. Some 
one speaks to her) No, Brian, Maire's not back yet. 
Ay, I'll engage she'll give you a call when she does 
come back. (Anne turns back. She opens drawer in 



8 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

the dresser and puts paper in. She begins to clear 
table, putting the delph back on dresser. To herself, 
anxiously) I hope Maire won't forget to call at the 
mill. (Room door right opens, and Conn Hourican 
comes down. Conn Hourican is a man of about fifty, 
with clear-cut, powerful features, his face is clean-shaven, 
his expression vehement. His dress is old-fashioned. 
He wears knee-breeches, a frieze coat rather long, a 
linen shirt with a little linen collar and a black string 
for bow. He carries a stick and moves about restlessly) 

ANNE 

Had Maire any talk of going to the mill, father? 

CONN 

I heard nothing of it. 

ANNE 

I hope she'll mind of it. We must get the meal there, 
and not be going to the shop so often. 

CONN 

I suppose we must. 

[|//e moves about restlessly. 

ANNE 

And I was just thinking that one of us ought to go 
to Arvach on Tuesday, and get the things there. 

CONN 

The mean, odious creatures! 

\_Anne is startled. She turns from dresser. 

ANNE 

What are you thinking of, father.? 

CONN 

That den of robbers. Well, well, I'm finished with 
them now; but I'm a proud man, and a passionate 
man, and I'll be even with them yet. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 9 

ANNE 

There's no comfort in going into rough places. 

CONN 

You know nothing at all about it. Were the men in 

yet? 

ANNE 

James Moynihan was here, because he had to go 
away early; but Brian MacConnell is outside still. 
Father, you were home late two nights this week. 

CONN 

And is a man to have no life to himself? But sure 
you know nothing at all about it. I'm going out 
now to give Brian MacConnell a hand. 

ANNE 

It's hardly worth while going out now. 

CONN 

There's still light enough to do a bit of mowing, and 
you ought to know that it isn't right to neglect the 
boy that's come to do a day's work with you. (Going 
to the door) Many's the day I put in with the scythe 
in Ireland, and in England too; I did more than 
stroll with the fiddle, and I saw more places than 
where fiddling brought me, (Brian MacConnell comes 
to the door) I was just going out to you, Brian, I 
was telling the girl here that it's not right to neglect 
the boy that's giving you a day's work out of his 
own goodness. 

BRIAN 

I'm only coming in for a light. 

CONN 

As you're here now, rest yourself. 

l^Brian MacConnell comes in, and goes over to the 

hearth. He is dark and good-looking, and has some- 



10 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

thing reckless in his look. He wears corduroy trousers, 
and a shirt loose at the neck. Anne comes to Brian. 
Conn stands at entrance, his back turned. 
BRIAN {lighting his 'pipe with a coal) 
When do you expect Maire back? 

ANNE 

She'll be here soon. She'll give you a call if you're 
outside. 

BRIAN 

How is it you couldn't keep James Moynihan? 

ANNE 

It's because you didn't say the good word for me, I 
must think. Be sure you praise me the next time 
you're working together. 

BRIAN 

Will you do as much for me? 

ANNE 

Indeed, I will, Brian. Myself and another are mak- 
ing a devotion to Saint Anthony. 

BRIAN 

And what would that be for? 

ANNE 

That the Saint might send us good comrades. 

BRIAN 

I thought it was Saint Joseph did that for the girls. 

ANNE 

Sure we couldn't be asking the like from him. We 
couldn't talk to Saint Joseph that way. We want a 
nice young saint to be looking at. 
f^Conn turns from the door. 

CONN (bitterly) 

It'll be a poor season, Brian MacConnell. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 11 

BRIAN 

The season's not so bad, after all. 

CONN 

God help them that are depending on the land and 
the weather for the bit they put into their heads. 
It's no wonder that the people here are the sort they 
are, harassed, anxious people. 

ANNE 

The people here mind their own business, and they're 
a friendly people besides. 

CONN 

People that would leave the best fiddler at the fair 

to go and look at a bullock. 
ANNE {to Brian) 

He's not satisfied to have this shelter, Brian. 
CONN (to Brian) 

I'm saying, Brian, that her mother had this shelter, 

and she left it to go the roads with myself. 

ANNE 

That God may rest my mother. It's a pity she never 
lived to come back to the place. But we ought to 
be praising grandmother night and day, for leaving 
this place to Maire. 

CONN 

Your grandmother did that as she did everything 
else. 

ANNE {to Brian) 

Now, Brian, what would you do with a man that 
would say the like.'' 
^Anne goes outside. 

CONN {to Brian) 

It's small blame to the girl here for thinking some- 
thing of the place; but I saw the time, Brian Mac- 



12 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

Connell, when I could make more playing at one 
fair than working a whole season in this bit of a 
place. 

BRIAN 

Girls like the shelter, Conn. 

CONN 

Ay, but the road for the fiddler. I'm five years 
settled here, and I come to be as well known as the 
begging ass, and there is as much thought about me. 
Fiddling, let me tell you, isn't like a boy's whistling. 
It can't be kept up on nothing. 

BRIAN 

I understand that, Conn. 

CONN 

I'm getting that I can't stand the talk you hear in 
houses, wars and Parliaments, and the devil knows 
what ramais. 

BRIAN 

There's still a welcome for the man of art, somewhere. 

CONN 

That somewhere's getting further and further away, 
Brian. 

BRIAN 

You were not m the town last night? 

CONN 

I was not, Brian. God help me, I spent the night 
my lone. 

BRIAN 

There's Sligomen in the town. 

CONN 

Is there, now? It would be like oul' times to play 
for them. (Anne comes in with some peat) Anne, 
would you bring me down my spectacles? They're 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 13 

in the room, daughter. {Anne goes to room. Conn 
turns to Brian eagerly) I suppose the Sligomen will 
be in Flynn's. 

BRIAN 

They were there last night. 

CONN 

Listen, Brian, I've a reason for not going to Flynn's. 
Would you believe it, Brian, Flynn spoke to me 
about the few shillings I owe him? 

BRIAN 

That was shabby of him. He got a lot out of you 
in the way of playing. 

CONN 

It's just like them. Besides, Maire keeps us tight 
enough, and I often have to take treats from the 
men. They're drovers and rambling labourers and 
the like, though, as you say, they've the song and 
music, and the proper talk. Listen, Brian, could 
you leave a few shillings on the dresser for me? 

BRIAN 

To be sure I will, Conn. 

[^Brian goes to the dresser, and puts money on a shelf. 
CONN (with dignity) 

Thank you, Brian. There's few I'd let put me under 
a compliment; but I take it from you. Maire, as I 
said, is a careful girl, but some of us must have our 
freedom. Besides, Brian, the bird that sings lone 
sings slow. The man of art must have his listeners. 
(Conn takes the money off dresser) Anne, daughter, 
what's keeping you there? Sure the spectacles were 
in my pocket the whole time, child. (Anne comes 
down) When I spoke against the people about here, 
I was leaving you out of it, Brian. 



14 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

BRIAN 

I'm fond of tune, though it wasn't here I got fond of 

it. 

[^Brian goes to the door. 

ANNE (going to Brian) 

You won't be rambling again, Brian? 

BRIAN 

I'm settled here, Anne; I made it up with my brothers. 

ANNE 

They used to say that a MacConnell quarrel was a 
lasting quarrel. 

BRIAN 

Maybe we're working the bad blood out of us. 

ANNE 

Don't be staying out long, Brian. 

BRIAN 

Till Maire gives me the call. 
[^Brian MacConnell goes out. 

ANNE 

We oughtn't to take another day from Brian Mac- 
Connell. There's only the patch at the back to be 
mown, and you could do that yourself. 

CONN 

You can depend on me for the mowing. I'm going 
up now, to go over an oul' tune I have. 

ANNE 

James Moynihan would come over and stack for us. 

CONN 

James Moynihan is a decent boy, too. 

ANNE 

You won't be going out to-night, father? 

CONN 

Now, how's a man to know what he'll be doing? 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 15 

ANNE 

It leaves me very anxious. 

CONN 

I'll give you this advice, and it's proper advice to 
give to a girl thinking of marrying. Never ask of 
your menkind where they're going. 

ANNE 

The like of that brings bad luck on a house. 

CONN 

You have too much dead knowledge, and the shut 
fist never caught a bird. 

ANNE 

I only wish you were settled down. 

CONN 

Sure I am settled down. 

ANNE 

I can't speak to you, after all. 

CONN 

You're a good girl, Anne, and he'll be lucky that gets 
you. And don't be grieving that you're not bringing 
James Moynihan a fortune. You're bringing him 
the decency of birth and rearing. You're like the 
lone pigeon I often think — the pet that doesn't 
fly, and keeps near the house. 

ANNE 

That's the way you always treat me, and I never 
can talk to you. 
CONN {at window) 

Hush now, here's the other, your sister Maire. She's 
like the wild pigeon of the woods. {Maire Hourican 
comes in) We were discoursing on affairs, Maire. 
We won't be bringing Brian MacConnell here to- 



16 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

morrow; there's only the bit at the back to be mown, 
and I'll do that myself. 

[^Conn Hourican goes into the room right; soon after 
the fiddle is heard. Anne goes to the settle, and takes 
up her knitting. Maire takes her shawl off, and hangs 
it on the rack. Maire Hourican is over twenty. She 
is tall, and has easy, graceful movements; her features 
are fine and clear-cut; the nose is rather blunted, the 
mouth firm. Her gaze is direct and clear. She has 
heavy auburn hair, loose now, and falling. Maire 
comes down to the table, opens basket, and takes some 
fiowers from top. She turns to dresser and arranges 
some of the fiowers in a jar. 

MAIRE 

We'd have no right to take another day from Brian. 
And when there's no one here to-morrow, you and 
me could draw some of the turf. 

ANNE 

Your hair is loose, Maire. 

l^Maire goes to the mirror and fixes her hair. 

MAIRE 

The wind blew it about me, and then I let it down. I 
came home by the long way, just to feel young again 
with my hair about me. 

ANNE 

And did you meet any one? 

MAIRE 

Indeed I did. I met James Moynihan. 

ANNE 

James had to go early. They're building at his place. 

MAIRE 

Indeed they ought to let James build a house for 
himself. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 17 

ANNE 

Some day they will, Maire. 

MAIRE 

But we must not let some day be a far day. 

ANNE {hesitatingly) 

I think I'll show you something. 

MAIRE 

What is it, daughter.'' 

\^Anne rises and goes to the dresser. She opens drawer. 
Maire watches her. 
MAIRE (waiting) 

I made a good girl out of you, anyway. 

ANNE 

You wouldn't let me use stroller words when we were 
on the road. Do you mind of that? 

MAIRE 

I kept you to the mannerly ways. I have that to 
my credit. 
ANNE (showing Maire the verses) 

Read that, Maire. It was James that made it. 

MAIRE 

It's a song, I declare. 

ANNE 

No, Maire, it's a poem. 

MAIRE 

A poem? O, that's grand! 
\_She begins to read it eagerly. 

ANNE 

And, Maire — 

MAIRE 

Well? 

ANNE 

James says it's about me. 



18 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

MAIRE 

About you? O, I wish some one would put me into a 
song, or into a poem; I suppose a poem would be 
best. You might ask James. No, I'll coax him my- 
self. Ah, no I won't, Anne. 

ANNE 

You may keep it for a while, but don't let any one 
know. 

MAIRE 

He must be very fond of you, and I thinking him so 
quiet. 

ANNE (happy) 

He has grand thoughts about me. 

MAIRE 

Well, you'll be seeing him to-night. 

ANNE 

I don't know that I'll go out to-night. 

MAIRE 

Sure Grace Moynihan asked us to go over. 

ANNE 

I'm shy of going into James'. 

MAIRE 

Anne, you're the only one of us that has any man- 
ners. Maybe you're right not to go. 

ANNE 

I'll stay in to-night. 

MAIRE 

Then Brian and myself will go to Moynihan's. 

ANNE 

You'd get an indulgence, Maire, if you missed a 
dance. 

MAIRE 

Would it be so hard to get an indulgence? {She takes 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 19 

flowers from dresser and puts them in window) The 
house looks nice this evening. We'll keep Brian here 
for a while, and then we'll go to Moynihan's. 

ANNE 

Father will be going out to-night. 
MAiRE {turning suddenly from window) 
Will he? 

ANNE 

He will. I think I ought to stay in. Maire, father was 
in only a while before you the night before last and 
another night. 

MAIRE 

O, and I thinking things were going so well with us. 
He's drinking again. 

ANNE 

He's going to Flynn's again. 

MAIRE 

Disgracing us again. 

ANNE 

I'll stay in to-night. 

MAIRE 

I'm tired of this. 

ANNE 

Don't say it that way, Maire. 

MAIRE 

What will people say of us two now? 

ANNE 

I'll talk to him to-night. 

MAIRE 

No, you're going out — you're going to Moynihan's 
— you're going to see your sweetheart. 

ANNE 

I think you're becoming a stranger to us, Maire. 



20 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

MAIRE 

You're going to Moynihan's to-night, and I'm going, 

too. But I'm going to settle this first. Once and 

for all I'm going to settle this. 

\^The fiddle has ceased. As Maire goes towards the 

room, Conn Hourican comes down, the fiddle in his 

hand. 

CONN 

Were you listening to the tune I was playing? Ah, 
that was a real oul' tune, if there was anyone that 
knew it. Maire, my jewel, were you listening? 

MAIRE 

I heard you. 

CONN 

It was a real oul' tune, and while I was playing it a 
great scheme came into my head. Now, listen to me, 
Maire; and you listen, too, Anne. Both of you would 
like to see your father having what's his due after all, 
honour and respect. 

MAIRE 

Both of us would like to see our father earn the same. 

CONN 

I could earn the same, ay, and gold and silver cups 
besides, if I had the mind to earn them. 
\^He puts fiddle on table and prepares to speak impres- 
sively. 

CONN 

Let ye listen to me now; I've a scheme to put before 
ye. When I was going over the oul' tune, I remem- 
bered that I'd heard of a Feis^ that's coming on soon, 

^ Feis, pronounced Fesh, a musical or literary gathering, with 
competitions. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 21 

the Feis of Ardagh. I'm thinking of going there. 
There will be great prizes for some one; I don't 
doubt but I'd do at Ardagh better than I did at the 
Feis of Granard, where people as high as bishops 
were proud and glad to know Conn Hourican the 
Fiddler. 

ANNE 

Father, you've a place to mind. 

CONN 

I'm tired of that kind of talk; sure I'm always think- 
ing of the place. Maire hasn't little notions. What 
do you say to it, Maire, my girl.? 

MAIRE 

What do I say? I say you're not a rambler now, 
though indeed you behave like one. 

CONN 

You have something against me, Maire. 

MAIRE 

I have. 

CONN 

What has she against me, Anne? 

MAIRE 

All the promises you broke. 

CONN 

You were listening to what the town is saying. 

MAIRE 

What does the town know? Does it know that you 
stripped us of stock and crop, the year after we came 
here? Does it know that Anne and myself, two girls 
of the roads, had to struggle ever since to keep a 
shelter? 
CONN (bitterly) 
It knows that. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 



MAIRE 

It couldn't help but know it, maybe. But does it 

know all the promises you made and broke? 
CONN {angrily) 

Hush now; I'll hear no more. I went my own way 

always, and I'll go my own way always. 

{He goes to the entrance, and remains with his back 

turned. Maire goes to Anne. 
MAIRE (raising her voice) 

Ay, he'll go his own way always. What was the good 

of working and saving here? 

ANNE 

Be quiet with him. 

MAIRE 

He'll go his own way always, and it's foolish of us 
to be fretting for him night and day. 
{Maire sits on stool and puts her hands across her face. 
CONN (turning his head) 

Fretting for me. It was too easy that I reared you. 

ANNE 

God help Maire! She kept the house together at 
the worst, and she is always fretting for us. 

CONN 

I'm oul' enough to mind myself. Let her remember 
that. 

ANNE 

It's you that ought to remember that. 
CONN (going to Maire) 

Did I ever give the harsh word to you, child? 

{No answer. 

CONN 

There, there; I never could see tears in a woman's 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 23 

eyes; there, there, colleen. I'm an onl' man; I won't 
be a trouble to you long. 
MAiRE (rising) 

Why need you play in Flynn's? You're as good as 
any that goes there. 

CONN 

I know that. I'm disgusted with Flynn. May hell 
loosen his knees for him! I'll go in and throw his 
money on the counter. 

MAIRE 

Some one else can do that. Promise me you won't 
go near the place. 

CONN 

You'll have me promise. I promise. 

MAIRE 

Take this in your hand and promise. It's a medal 
that belonged to mother. 
\^She takes a medal from her neck. 
CONN (taking the medal) 

I'm disgusted with Flynn. I promise you, Maire. 

MAIRE 

Now you've honour and respect. 

CONN 

And what about Ardagh, Maire.^ 

MAIRE 

Sure, you're not the rambling fiddler any more. 

CONN 

That would be the good rambling. I see the trees 
making shadows across the roads. 

MAIRE 

We'll talk about it again. 

ANNE 

Brian MacConnell will be coming in now. 



24 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

CONN 

I'm going out to Brian MacConnell. 
[He goes to the door. 

ANNE 

Tell Brian to come in now. 

[Conn Hourican goes out. There is a pause. Maire 

hums a time as she goes to the mirror. 

MAIRE 

Am I looking well to-day? 
ANNE (rather distantly) 

You're looking your best, I think. (Seriously) Maire, 

I didn't like the way you talked to father. 
MAIRE (petulantly) 

What have you against it? 

ANNE 

You're becoming a stranger to us, Maire. 
MAIRE (as an apology) 

I'm out often, I know, but I think as much 
as ever of the house, and about you and father. 
You know we couldn't let him go to the Feis at 
Ardagh. We couldn't let him go off like a rambling 
fiddler. 

ANNE 

We couldn't let him go off by himself. 

MAIRE 

You're going to Moynihan's. 

ANNE 

Maybe I'll go. 

MAIRE 

Anne, honey, do something for me. 

ANNE 

What will I do? 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 25 

MAIRE 

You'll meet father coming up with Brian, and take 
him away. 

ANNE 

And will you tell me everything to-night? 

MAIRE 

Who else would I talk to but yourself, Nancy? (Anne 
goes out) I wish Anne hadn't spoken to me like that. 
I feel the like of that. (Desperately) Well, I'll pray for 
nothing now but to look my best. (She goes to the fire. 
Brian MacConnell comes in) You're welcome, Brian. 

BRIAN 

We didn't finish to-day. I'll come in to-morrow and 
finish. 

MAIRE 

no, Brian, we won't take another day from you. 

BRIAN 

Well, what's a day after all? Many's the day and 
night I put in thinking on you. 

MAIRE 

But did you do what I asked you to do? 

BRIAN 

1 did. I made it up with my brothers. It was never 
my way before. What I wanted I took with the 
strong hand; or if I mightn't put the strong hand on 
it, I left it alone. 

MAIRE (eagerly) 

Tell me what your brother said to you. 

BRIAN 

When I came up to the door, Hugh came out to meet 
me. "What destruction are you bringing me?" he 
said. "There's my hand," says I, "and I take your 
offer." 



26 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

MAIRE 

Ah, that's settled. You could settle anything, Brian. 
{She goes to the settle and sits down) I wonder could 
you settle something for us? 

BRIAN 

What is it, Maire? 

MAIRE 

It's my father. He wants to be rambling again. He 
wants to be going to some Feis. 

BRIAN 

Sure, let him go. 
\^He takes her hand. 

MAIRE 

I couldn't, Brian. Couldn't you help us? Couldn't 
you keep father's mind on the right things? 

BRIAN 

Sure, let the fiddler go on the roads. 

MAIRE 

You might stay here this evening with ourselves. 

Father would be glad to talk with you. 
BRIAN (putting his arm around her) 

But I want the two of us to be seen in Moynihan's 

to-night. 
MAIRE (resistance in her voice) 

Stay here with us, and let all that go by. 

BRIAN 

Hugh will be there with that woman that brought him 
the big fortune; and I want you to take the shine out 
of her. 

MAIRE (rising) 

I was out often lately.. You know that, Brian. 
[_She goes to chair at table, and sits aioay from him. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 27 

BRIAN {rising and going to her) 

But this night above all you must be with me. 

MAiRE {turning to him impulsively) 

Stay here and I'll be as nice to you as if we were in 
another house. {He kisses her. She rises arid goes 
from him) If you knew me at all, Brian MacConnell, 
that's not the way you'd treat me. 

BRIAN 

Are you not coming out with me? 

MAIRE 

You must leave me to myself now. {Conn Hourican 
comes in) Is Anne with you, father? 

CONN 

She's gathering posies or something like that. Brian, 
did you hear about the Feis at Ardagh? 
MAIRE {with vehemence) 

Oh, what's the good of talking about that? You 
can't go. 

CONN 

Can't go, did you say, girl? 

MAIRE 

Oh, how could you go? 

CONN 

Is that the way? Well, God help us. Give me that 

fiddle till I leave it up. 

^He takes the fiddle off dresser, and turns to go. 

MAIRE 

Father, let me be with you to-night; oh, I'm sorry 

if I vexed you. {No reply) Well, stay with Brian 

MacConnell; I'm going out to Anne. 

\_Maire goes out. Brian goes to rack, and puts on his 

coat. 



28 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

BRIAN 

Are you coming. Conn? I'm off. 

CONN 

Where to, man? 

BRIAN 

To Flynn's. 

CONN 

I can't be going, I'm sorry to say. 

BRIAN 

I'm going anyway. It's a great thing to be in the 
company of men. 

CONN 

Ay, in troth. Women, Brian, leave the heart of one 
very lonesome. 
BRIAN (masterfully) 

Why can't you come out? I thought you were going 
to-night. 

CONN 

I can't, Brian, and that reminds me. Give these few 
shillings to Flynn for me. I'll owe them to you still. 

BRIAN 

I'm not going to be bothered by the like. Why 
can't you come? 

CONN 

I promised Maire. 

[^Brian strides away. He turns, comes hack deliberately, 

and sits on table beside Conn. 

BRIAN 

They'll be all looking out for you at Flynn's. 

CONN 

Well, the next time they see me they may respect me. 

BRIAN 

Some of the boys will take it very unkindly. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 29 

CONN 

They're decent enough fellows, some of them. 

BRIAN 

And above all nights they'll be watching out for 
you this night, on account of the Sligomen. 

CONN 

They're decent enough fellows, as I said, and I'll 
be sorry to disappoint them, 

BRIAN 

The Sligomen will have great stories about Shawn 
Heffernan. 

CONN 

Shawn Heffernan! Is that impostor still alive? 

BRIAN 

He is, and for fiddling these Sligomen think there's 
not the like of him in the whole of Ireland. 

CONN 

God help them if that's all they know. We played 
against each other at the Granard Feis. He got the 
prize, but everybody knew that it was me played the 
best. 

BRIAN 

There's few of them alive now that mind of the Gran- 
ard Feis. He got the prize, and there's no talk of 
you at all. 

CONN 

No talk of me at all? 

BRIAN 

It's said that since you settled down you lost your 
aH. 

CONN 

And what had the men at Flynn's to say about 
that? 



30 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

BRIAN 

They bragged about you for a while, but the Sligomen 
put them down. 

CONN 

I wonder would we have time to go up, play a few 
tunes, and come back, while Maire would be doing 
something? It would be a pity not to give them 
fellows a lesson and close their ignorant mouths for 
them. I wonder would we have time? {Anne comes 
in with Maire) I thought you went somewhere and 
left Brian and myself here. 

ANNE 

We're going somewhere and Brian might come with us. 

MAIRE 

Every one is going to Moynihan's. 

CONN 

It's a pleasant house, a pleasant house. Brian will 
make his ceilidh^ with me. We might go over a few 
tunes. 

ANNE 

Let Brian come where there are girls that might miss 
him. 

MAIRE 

Anne, you're a great one for keeping up the story 
that girls are always thinking about men. 

ANNE 

And so they are. Just as men are always thinking 
about girls. 

MAIRE 

You'd make a good ribbonman.^ You'd put a face 
on anything you said. 

^ Celidh, pronounced cayley, a visit. 

^ A ribbonman — a member of a secret agrarian society. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 31 

.ANNE 

Ribbonism and secret societies were denounced off 
the altar. 

MAIRE 

Goodness! The men will begin to think they've 
secrets worth telling. 

ANNE 

Have you secrets worth telling, Brian? 

MAIRE 

I daresay he has. There are foolish women in the 
world. 

ANNE 

Are you coming to Moynihan's, Brian? 

BRIAN 

No. I'm going where there's men. 

MAIRE 

Come, Anne, till I deck you out. Come here, daugh- 
ter, don't wear flowers. I think they're unlucky. 
Here I am talking like this, and I going to a dance. 
I suppose I'll dance with seven or eight and forget 
what's on my mind. . . . Everyone is going to Moyni- 
han's except the men here. Are you going out, father? 

CONN 

I'm making a ceilidh with Brian. 

MAIRE 

Well, God be with you both. Come on, Anne. 
\_Maire takes down her shawl, and puts it over her head. 
She stands at the door, watching Anne, who goes to 
Brian. 

ANNE 

Brian, what have you against Moynihan's? 

BRIAN 

Nothing at all. I may go in. 



32 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

MAIRE 

Come on, Anne. God be with you both. 

\^Maire and Anne go out. They are heard talking jor a 

while. Conn goes to the door. 

CONN 

Maire and Anne are turning the bohereen.^ Come 

on now. 

[He takes his fiddle and begins to wrap it up eagerly. 

BRIAN 

Ay, let's go. 
CONN (at door) 

I never forget, I never forget. The Granard Feis is 
as fresh in my mind as the day I played at it. Shawn 
Heffernan, indeed! I never forget. I never forget. 
[Conn Hourican and Brian MacConnell go out. 

1 Bohereen — the little path gomg from the cottage to the main 
road. 

CURTAIN 



ACT II 

The next day: The scene is as in 'previous Act. It is 
now in the forenoon. Maire Hourican is seated at the 
fire in a listless attitude. Anne is busy at the dresser. 
Maire rises. 

MAIRE 

We shouldn't have stayed at Moynihan's so late. 

ANNE 

Indeed it would have been better to go home, but I 
was sure that Brian MacConnell would come in. 

MAIRE 

Well, it was his own loss if he didn't come. Maybe 
there was one there that I liked better. 

ANNE 

You couldn't have liked Connor Gilpatrick better 
than Brian MacConnell. 

MAIRE 

Connor's the best-looking boy in the country. Was it 
noticed that we were together often? 
ANNE {significantly) 

Peggy Carroll noticed it. 

MAIRE 

Well, the boy was glad to talk to me. Connor's a 
good dancer, and he has fine talk besides. If Brian 
MacConnell had come to the door, I wouldn't have 
turned my head towards him. 

ANNE 

Sure, you wouldn't compare a young boy like Connor 
Gilpatrick with Brian MacConnell? 



34 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

MAIRE 

I wouldn't have turned my head towards Brian. O! 
never expect kindness from men. Why did you let 
me stay on.'* I'm afraid to look at myself in the glass 
to-day. {She goes over to the mirror) You were hard 
on me, Anne, yesterday. 

ANNE 

I didn't like the way you talked to father. 

MAIRE 

I think I'm getting different to what I used to be. 
Well, I've reason to be sorry for what I did yesterday. 
{She is at window) Was Peggy Carroll vexed at the 
way I went on? 

ANNE 

She never took her eyes off the pair of you. You 
know she's very fond of Connor. 

MAIRE 

Anne, never remind me of my foolishness. I'm heart- 
sick of myself to-day. 

ANNE 

I'll comb out your hair for you, and you'll look well 
enough. 

MAIRE 

Then you're expecting Brian MacConnell? 

ANNE 

It's likely he'll come in to see if there's anything to 
be done. 

MAIRE 

I suppose he'll come in. Gracious, how did father 
get out? He's coming up the path. 
ANNE {coming to Maire) 

Father's not up, surely? Maire, be easy with Brian 
MacConnell when he comes in. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 35 

MAIRE 

Father's coming up the path. Anne! 

ANNE 

What is it, Maire? 

MAIRE 

Father wasn't in at all, last night. 

ANNE 

Then he went to Flynn's, after all. 

MAIRE 

Ay, he went to Flynn's. 
[^She goes to Anne. 

ANNE 

Maire, what will become of us all? 

MAIRE 

1 don't know. 

\_Maire goes to the settle, and sits doion. 

ANNE 

What will we do with him at all? 
\_Conn Hourican comes in. 

CONN 

God save you ! (He looks around) Well, I came back 
to ye. 

ANNE 

You did, God help us! And we depending on you. 
It's the bad way you always treated us. 

CONN 

Did you hear what happened to me, before you 
attack me? 

ANNE 

What happened to you? What always happens to 
you? 

CONN 

I wonder that a man comes in at all! The complaints 



36 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

against him are like the Queen's Speech, prepared 
beforehand. 

ANNE 

Ever since I can remember, you treated us Hke that. 
Bringing us into drinking-places and we httle. It's 
well we got to know anything, or got into the way of 
being mannerly at all. 

CONN 

You know too much. I always said that. Is James 
Moynihan coming here to-day? 

ANNE 

No, he isn't coming here to-day. 

CONN 

Well, we can do without him. There's something to 
be done to-day. I said I'd do the bit of mowing, and 
I was thinking of that all along. {He looks at Maire) 
Did you hear what happened to me, Maire.'' 

MAIRE 

It's no matter at all. 

CONN 

I went over to Flynn's, I may tell you. 

ANNE 

In troth we might have known that. 

CONN 

But did you hear what happened to me? 

ANNE 

How could we hear? It was Maire went to the door, 
and there you were coming up the path; and we 
thinking you were in bed, resting yourself. 

CONN 

I went over to Flynn's, but I had good reason for 
going there. (He puts the fiddle down on the table) 
Didn't you hear there were Sligomen in the town. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 37 

Maire? Well, one of them was in the way of reward- 
ing the prizes. I told you about the Feis; well, it's 
no matter now, I'll say no more about that. At all 
events the man I mentioned wanted to know what 
music was in the country, so he sent a message to 
myself. 
ANNE {as satirical as she can be) 
That was kind of him. 

CONN 

It was. I could do no less than go. I'll rest myself 
now, and then get ready for the mowing. (He goes 
to the room door; he turns again and watches Maire) 
Maire, I'm sorry you weren't on the spot. You 
might have advised me. I couldn't think of where 
you went or I'd have followed you. I had to make 
haste. 

MAIRE 

It's no matter at all now. 

CONN 

I'll stretch myself on the bed before I begin work. 
Anne, did you say you were leaving something in 
the room for me? 

ANNE 

I suppose I'll have to leave the tea in the room for 
you. 

\^She gets the tea ready. Maire remains motionless. 

CONN 

Well, I have the pattern of daughters, anyway. I 
wouldn't give this house for the praise of Ireland, no, 
not if they carried me on their backs. (Anne takes 
the tea up to the room) It's a pity you weren't there, 
Maire, though of course I wouldn't bring you into 
such a place. But they were decent fellows, decent. 



38 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

warm-hearted fellows. If you were to see their faces 
when I played An Chailin Donn. I'll warrant they'll 
be whistling it, though they never heard the tune 
before. And the manners they have! I offered the 
fiddle to one of them. "No," says he, "not a string 
will I touch while the master of us is here." That's 
something like the spirit. (Maire has turned to him 
and is attentive) But there, I won't fill myself up 
with false music telling you about it all. 
\^He turns to the room. 

MAIRE 

Bring up your fiddle. 
CONN (taking fiddle and going towards room again) 

It will be as good as sound sleeping for me. I'll never 
forget it. Flynn will never forget it. It will be the 
making of Flynn. 
\^Maire rises. 

MAIRE 

You've only your fiddle; we shouldn't forget that. 
[^Conn goes up to the room. Maire turns to the fire. 
Anne comes down. 

ANNE 

O Maire, what will become of us at all.? 

MAIRE 

He is very pleased with himself. He has only his 
fiddle, we shouldn't forget that. 

ANNE 

It will be a long time till he does the like again. 

MAIRE 

It will be a long time, I suppose. Both of us might be 
in a diflferent house and have difiFerent cares. 

ANNE 

That would be terrible. I'll never leave him, Maire. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 39 

MAIRB 

You can't say the like now. 

ANNE 

Why? 

MAIRE 

How could you take such things upon you and life 
stretching out before you? You're not young enough, 
Anne. Besides, it's not what we say; it's what we 
feel. No, it's not what we feel either; it's what 
grows up in us. 

ANNE 

He might never do the like again. 

MAIRE 

Many's the time mother said that, and she and me 
lying together. 

ANNE 

Will we ever get out of it, Maire? 

l^James enters. 

MAIRE 

You have only a while to stay with us. 

ANNE 

James, what will your father say if he hears of you 
giving us another day? 

JAMES 

My father took a stick in his hand this morning, and 
went ofiF with himself. 

MAIRE 

You're welcome, James. It was a pleasant time we 
had in your house last evening. 

JAMES 

1 hope you liked the company, Maire. I'm afraid 
there was very little to be called refined or scholarly. 



40 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

and the conversation at times was homely enough. 
But we did our best, and we were proud to see you. 

MAIRE 

Sit down, James. 

[^James sits on chair, near table. Maire is seated at 

fire, left of James. Anne leans against table, right of 

him. 

JAMES 

Your father is outside, maybe? 

MAIRE 

No. He's above in the room. 

JAMES 

Yes. Practising, I suppose. Them that have the 
gift have to mind the gift. In this country there 
isn't much thought for poetry, or music, or scholar- 
ship. Still, a few of us know that a while must be 
spared from the world if we are to lay up riches in the 
mind. 

ANNE 

I hope there's nothing wrong at home? 
JAMES {turning to Anne) 

To tell you the truth, Anne, and to keep nothing 
back, there is. 

MAIRE 

And what is it, James? 
JAMES {turning to Maire) 

Anne was talking to my father last night. 

ANNE 

Indeed I was, and I thought him very friendly to me. 

JAMES 

Ay, he liked you well enough, I can tell you that, 

, Anne. This morning when he took a stick in his 

hand, I knew he was making ready for a journey, for 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 41 

the horse is laid up. "Walk down a bit with me," 
said he, "and we'll go over a few things that are in 
my mind." Well, I walked down with him, and 
indeed we had a serious conversation. 

ANNE 

Well? 

JAMES 

"Anne Hourican is too young," said my father; "she's 
a nice girl, and a good girl, but she's too young." 

MAIRE 

Sure in a while Anne will be twenty. 
JAMES {turning to Maire) 

Ten years from this father would still think Anne 
too young. And late marriages, as everybody knows, 
is the real weakness of the country. 

ANNE 

I thought your father liked me. 

JAMES 

He likes you well enough, but, as he says, "what 
would she be doing here and your sisters years older 
than herself?" There's truth in that, mind you. I 
always give in to the truth. 

MAIRE 

James? 
JAMES {turning to Maire) 
Well, Make? 

MAIRE 

Is Anne a girl to be waiting twenty years for a man, 
like Sally Cassidy? 

JAMES 

God forbid, Maire Hourican, that I'd ask your sister 
to wait that length. 



42 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

MAIRE 

She hasn't got a fortune. We were brought up dif- 
ferent to farmers, and maybe we never gave thought 
to the like. 

JAMES 

She has what's better than a fortune. 

MAIRE 

Why aren*t your sisters married off? 

JAMES 

Big fortunes are expected with them. 

MAIRE 

And they look to your wife to bring a big fortune 
into the house? 

JAMES 

Ay, they do that. 

MAIRE 

You, James, ought to have some control in the house. 
You're the only son. Your father is well off. Get 
him to fortune off your sisters, and then bring Anne 
to the house. 

JAMES 

But how could I get father to fortune oflF the girls? 

MAIRE 

How? By weakening up. You have the right. When 
we have the right, we ought to be able to do any- 
thing we like with the people around us. 

JAMES 

I give in to the truth of that, Maire. 

MAIRE 

What will come of you giving in to the truth of it? 
But sure you ought to remember, Anne. 
ANNE {taking Jameses hand) 

James has the good way with people. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 43 

MAIRE 

Well, I suppose it will come out right for you in the 
end. You are both very deserving, (She rises) But 
some time or another we have to take things into our 
own hands. 

JAMES 

Indeed that's true, Maire. 

\^Maire goes to hack. 
ANNE {holding James's hand) 

Did you make any more songs, James? 

JAMES 

I have a song in my head since last night. 

ANNE 

The one in the paper is lovely. I know it by heart. 

JAMES 

The next I make will be ten times better. 
\_Conn Hourican comes down. 

CONN 

I heard your voice, James, and I thought I'd come 
down. It's very good of you to come here again. I'll 
be out with you to-day. 

JAMES 

It'll be a good day from this on. Were you practising 
above, Mister Hourican? 

CONN 

Well, no, James, I wasn't practising. I was at a big 

gathering last night, and my hands are unstrung like. 

We'll talk for a while, and then I'll go out with you. 
ANNE (taking James's arm) 

Come out with me for a minute, James. 
JAMES (going off) 

I'll see you again, Mister Hourican. 

[^James and Anne go out. 



44 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

CONN 

Well, God help us. {lie turns to go back to the room. 
Maire comes down from back) Are you going out, 
Maire? 

MAIRE 

No, I'm staying here. 
CONN (aggrieved) 

Do you mind them two, how they went out together. 

I think I'll go out and see what's to be done about the 

place. 

[^Conn goes towards the entrance. Maire goes towards 

the fire. 
CONN (pausing at door) 

I broke my word to you, Maire. 

MAIRE 

I don't know what to say to you now. 

CONN 

It was the music and the strange faces that drew me. 

MAIRE 

I know that now. 

CONN 

It will be a long time till I break my word to you 
again. 

MAIRE 

I'll never ask for your word again. 
CONN (warmly) 

I can tell you this, Maire. There's many's the place 
in Ireland where Conn Hourican's word would be 
respected. 

MAIRE 

I'll never ask for your word again. You have only 
your fiddle, and you must go among people that will 
praise you. When I heard you talking of your lis- 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 45 

teners, I knew that. I was frightened before that. 
When I saw you coming, I went and sat there, and I 
thought the walls of the house were crowding in on me. 

CONN 

You were partly to blame, Maire. You left me there 
very lonesome. 

MAIRE 

I was to blame, I suppose. I should have treated you 
differently. Well, I know you better now. Let you 
sit down and we'll talk together. (Conn sits on chair 
to right of table) What's to become of myself I don't 
know. Anne and James Moynihan will marry, I 
hope. Neither of us have fortunes, and for that 
reason our house should be well spoken of. 

CONN 

Sure I know that. I wouldn't bring the shadow of a 
disgrace near ye. 

MAIRE 

If the father isn't well spoken of, how could the house 
be well spoken of.'^ They're big drinkers that go to 
Flynn's, and it's easy for the fiddler to get into the 
way of drinking. 

CONN 

I won't go to Flynn's when you put it that way. 

MAIRE 

I'll ask for no word. I'll let you know the real way 
of the house, and then trust you. 

CONN 

You're a good girl, Maire. I should have been said 
by you. 

MAIRE 

From this out there will be dances at the schoolhouse 
and the like of that. You could be playing at them. 



46 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

CONN 

None of the oul' people go to the Hke, and the young 
don't understand me nor my ways. God knows will 
I ever play again. That thought is often with me of 
late, and it makes me very lonesome. 

MAIRE 

That's foolishness. 

CONN 

I was very lonesome when you left me. You don't 
know how I was tempted, Maire. There was Brian 
MacConnell putting on his coat to go to Flynn's, and 
talking of the Sligomen. 
MAIRE (startled) 

And was it to Flynn's that Brian MacConnell went? 

CONN 

It was Brian that brought me to Flynn's. 

MAIRE 

Was it Brian MacConnell that brought you to 
Flynn's.? 

CONN 

It was. 
MAIRE (passionately) 

You must never go to Flynn's. 

CONN 

I'm ashamed of myself. Didn't I say that, Maire? 

MAIRE (with hardness) 

You must never go again. 

CONN 

And is a man to have no life to himself? 

MAIRE 

That's talk just. It's time you thought of your own 
place and your own children. It's time you gave up 
caring for the praise of foolish people. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 47 

CONN 

Foolish people, did you say? 

MAIRE 

Ay, foolish people. You had all your life to yourself, 
and you went here and there, straying from place to 
place, and caring only for the praise of foolish people. 

CONN 

God help you, if that's your way of thinking! Sure 
the world knows that a man is born with the gift, 
and isn't the gift then the sign of the grace of God.f^ 
Foolish people, indeed! Them that know the gift 
have some of the grace of God, no matter how poor 
they may be. 

MAIRE 

You're always thinking of them. You never think 
of your own. Many's the time your own cried tears 
over your playing. 
CONN {passionately, starting up) 
I'll go out of the house. 

MAIRE 

Let you stay here. 
CONN (going towards entrance) 

I'll go out of the house, I tell you. 

MAIRE 

No. 

[Conn goes over to the fire. 

CONN 

God help me that ever came Into this country at all. 
(He sits down on the armchair, his hands resting on 
his stick) I had friends once, and was well thought 
of; I can tell you that, my daughter. 

MAIRE 

I know that. 



48 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

CONN 

Well, you can have your own way with me now. 

MAIRE 

Why can't you stay here? There's lots to be done 
here. Our fields are a laughing-stock to the neigh- 
bours, they're that poor and wasted. Let us put all our 
minds into working, and have a good place of our own. 

CONN 

Ay, and the grabbers and informers of this place 
would think well of you then. 

MAIRE 

Who do you call grabbers and informers? 

CONN 

The people of this place. The people you want to 
shine before. 

MAIRE 

I don't want to shine before the people. 

CONN 

I'm not saying against you, Maire. 

MAIRE 

You're wrong in thinking I want to shine at all. 

CONN 

Sure you go to every dance and ceilidh; and to every 
house where you can show off your face, and dancing, 
and conversation. 

MAIRE 

Do I? Maybe I do. Every girl does the like. 

CONN 

I'm not saying against it. 
\_Pause. 

MAIRE 

You think I'm like yourself, wanting the praise of 
the people. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 49 

CONN 

And what's the harm if you do? 

MAIRE 

No harm at all. But I don't go to houses to show 
myself oflf. 

CONN 

Troth and you do, Maire. 

[//e rises and goes towards the entrance, and remains 

looking out. 

MAIRE 

I won't believe it. 

[_She goes to the settle. Anne comes in. Anne goes to 

the glass to fix her hair. 

CONN 

Had you a good night at Moynihan's, Anne? : 

ANNE 

A sort of a good night. 

CONN 

I was going to tell you about a man I met last night. 
He had a song about your grandmother. 

ANNE 

Was grandmother a great beauty, father? 

CONN 

Honor Gilroy had good looks, and indeed she made 
the most of them. 

MAIRE 

It's likely there was some to tell her that she was 
showing off. 

CONN 

No one was to her liking unless they praised her. 

ANNE 

Ah well, a fiddler ought to forgive that to a woman. 



50 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

MAIRE 

Fiddlers and women are all alike, but don't say that 
to him. 

\_Anne goes to Maire and sits beside her. 
CONN (speaking to both) 

Well, Honor Gilroy wasn't the worst, maybe. 

MAIRE 

And fiddlers and women oughtn't be hard on each 
other. 

CONN 

Do you say that, Maire? 
MAIRE (rising and going to him) 
I say it, father. 

CONN 

God forgive me if I vexed you, Maire. 

ANNE 

It's clearing up now, father, and you ought to go out 
to James. (Conn turns to the door. He remains in 
the doorway. Anne rises and goes to Maire) What 
did you say to him.'* 
MAIRE (looking at Conn) 

He doesn't feel it at all. Father will always be the 
fiddler, no matter what we say. 

ANNE 

Maire. Come and talk to me. (They sit at fire) I 
was talking to James. He'll never be happy until 
we're under the one roof. 
\_Maire clasps Anne's hands passionately. 
MAIRE (with cry) 

Anne, daughter, I'll be very lonesome for you. 

ANNE 

But sure I won't be far off, Maire. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 51 

MAIRE 

Ay, but it's terrible to face things alone. 

\_James has come to the door. Conn and James have 

been talking. They turn in. 

CONN 

But I'll be glad enough to have the scythe in my 
hands after it all, James. 

JAMES 

Anne was telling me how you took the victory from 
Connaught. 

CONN 

Still I'm sorry for him! That poor Heffernan! He'll 
never hold up his head again. 

JAMES 

Sure I'd have it in a ballad that would be sung in his 
own town. It would be well worth putting into a 
ballad. 

CONN 

Well indeed, it would make a right good ballad, 
James. 

JAMES 

I'd like to make a ballad about it, that would be sung 
all over Connaught. 

CONN 

And why wouldn't you do it, James Moynihan? 
Sure it would be the making of you. It would be 
sung all over Ireland, and your name to it. Do you 
hear that, Maire? Do you hear that, Anne? 

JAMES 

I'm saying that I'd like to do a ballad about your 
father's victory. 

CONN 

Maybe you could have it this night week, James? 



52 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

ANNE 

Will it be a poem or a ballad, James? 
[^Anne goes to him. 

CONN 

If you had it this night week, we could bring the boys 
to the place. What do you say to that, INIaire? We'll 
bring the boys here this night week to hear James 
Moynihan's ballad. 

MAIRE 

I was thinking of the Feis at Ardagh. 

CONN 

The Feis at Ardagh? 

MAIRE 

Maybe you'll be going to it this night week. 

CONN 

Sure you're not joking with me, Maire? 

MAIRE 

No. 

l^She rises. 

CONN 

God forgive me, Maire, if I vexed you. 
[^Maire goes up to Conn's room. 

CONN 

Anne, jewel, had Maire anything to say about Ardagh? 

ANNE 

We weren't talking about that at all. 

JAMES 

Play me a rouse on the fiddle and maybe the ballad 

will come into my head. 

{^Maire comes down, a fiddle in her hands. 

MAIRE 

Here's the fiddle that was your favourite, the Gran- 
ard fiddle. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 5S 

CONN 

And this is the fiddle I'll bring with me to Ardagh. 

ANNE 

And is he going to Ardagh? 

JAMES 

And what about the ballad. Mister Hourican? 

CONN 

I leave it all to Maire now. How well she bethought 
of the Granard fiddle. 

MAIRE 

Father, we were always together. 

l^She hands him the fiddle. Conn, Maire, James, Anne, 

are at table, 

CURTAIN 



ACT III 

A week laier: The scene is as in previous Acts. The table 
is near entrance. It is laid for a meal. The time is near 
sunset. Conn Hourican, Maire Hourican, and James 
Moynihan are seated at table. Maire Hourican rises. 
She goes to entrance and remains looking out. Conn 
and James go on eating. 

CONN 

However it is, I could never play my best in this 
place. The houses are too scattered, I often think. 
And it doesn't do for the fiddler to remain too long 
in the one place. The people get too used to him. 
Virgil made better songs than any man, but if Virgil 
was sung in the fairs constant, divil much heed would 
be given to his songs. 

JAMES 

Now, I often thought of that. 

CONN 

Another thing, James Moynihan, Ribbonism and the 
Land League ruined the country. 
[_Maire goes out. 

JAMES 

But sure we must be doing something for the Cause. 

CONN 

They were all Fenians here when I came into this 
country first, over twenty years ago. 
[^He rises and goes into room. 

JAMES 

Well, he's a great man, Conn Hourican. (James rises 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 55 

and goes to fire. Conn comes out of room, carrying a 
greatcoat) How do you think you'll do at Ardagh? 

CONN 

I think I'll do very well at Ardagh, James. 
[^He leaves coat on settle. 

JAMES 

Everything's ready for the start. 

CONN 

Ay, and it's near time for going. I'm playing very 
well lately, James. It's the thought of being before 
people who'll know music. If I was staying in this 
place any longer, James, I'd put my fiddle in the 
thatch, and leave it there for the birds to pick holes 
in. 

JAMES 

But won't you be back here after the Feis at Ardagh? 

CONN 

Well, I will, for a while anyway. 

JAMES 

And would you be going off again after a while.? 

CONN 

I'm thinking that when my daughters are settled I'll 
have the years before me. I was reared in a place 
south of this, and I'd like to go back there for a 
while. 

JAMES 

But wouldn't you come back to us? 

CONN 

There's many's the place in Ireland that I never saw, 
town and countryside. {He takes the greatcoat off settle 
and puts it on him) Tell me, James Moynihan, is 
your father satisfied with the settlement that Maire's 
making for yourself and Anne? 



56 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

JAMES 

My father is very well satisfied. 
CONN (going towards his room) 

And so he ought to be, James Moynihan. 
[Goes into his room. 

JAMES 

My father had always a great liking for Anne. (Anne 
comes out of the other room. James Moynihan goes to 
her) May you never think, Anne, that you made 
the bad choice when you took James Moynihan. 
\_They sit on settle. 

ANNE 

Sure I was never fond of any one but yourself. 

JAMES 

And I never cared for any one after I saw you. 

ANNE 

I used to hear that you were fond of another girl. 

JAMES 

I was fond of the girl that used to be in the newspaper 
shop in the town. 

ANNE 

And used you to talk with her? 

JAMES 

The elbows were worn out of my coat with leaning on 
the counter to talk with her. But she married a 
policeman after that. He was a friend of mine, too. 
It was me that got him the words and music for 
"I'll hang my harp on a willow tree" — a song that 
he was always looking for. 

ANNE 

Did you make any songs about the girl? 

JAMES 

I did not. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 57 

ANNE 

Oh, James, I'm glad of that. I'm glad you made no 
songs about her. 

JAMES 

Are you content to marry me in the town of Ardagh, 
• after the Feis, as Maire wishes? 

ANNE 

It will be strange to be married in Ardagh, away from 
the people I know. 

JAMES 

It will be lucky getting married after the Feis. 

ANNE 

James, it's a great trial for a girl to face marriage; 
but, James, I'm very fond of you. 
\_James kisses her. 

JAMES 

I don't know what to think of them writers who say 
that the Irish girls haven't the heart for love. 

ANNE 

Is Maire outside? 

JAMES 

She went out. 

ANNE 

It's a wonder that Brian MacConnell isn't here before 

this. 

\\Anne rises. Maire comes in. 

ANNE 

Is there no one coming here? 

MAIRE 

There is no one on the road. 

ANNE 

Brian MacConnell is late in coming. 



58 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

[ilfaire comes up to the fire. Anne stands with her. 
James goes to entrance, and remains looking out. 

MAIRE 

I saw Brian yesterday. 

ANNE 

And did you tell him that you were going at the 
sunset? 

MAIRE 

I told him we were going in the evening. 

ANNE 

Maybe you were distant with Brian? 

MAIRE 

He looked like a man that something had happened 
to. Connor Gilpatrick came up, and then I went 
away. 

[^Conn Hourican comes out of room. He has left the 
greatcoat in room. He brings the fiddle with him. 
Maire and Anne go to the settle. They talk. 
JAMES {to Conn) 

What would you think of a row of trees planted before 

the door? 

{Conn leaves fiddle on dresser, and comes to him. 

CONN 

They might be very becoming, James. 

JAMES 

My father was saying that the front looked very bare. 

CONN 

A row of trees, when they'd grow, would make a 
great difference. 

JAMES 

That's what my father was saying. 
{They talk. Conn leaning on the half -door. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 59 

ANNE 

I'm glad to be here. It would be very strange for 
me to be married, and in another house. 

MAIRE 

I was thinking, Anne, that father and myself ought 
to stay a while on the road, till you and James get 
settled here. 

ANNE 

Listen, Maire. James says that he'll be giving this 
place back to you after a while. With this start he'll 
be able to get a house and land near his father's place. 
He has fine schemes for making this place prosperous. 
James, come here. {James turns from door) Come 
here, James, and talk with Maire. 
\jJames comes to girls, leaving Conn looking out. Maire 
rises. 

JAMES 

I'll make a path down to the road, and, with a row 
of trees before the door, the place will be well worth 
looking at. 

MAIRE 

We won't know the place after a while. 

JAMES 

We can never forget, Maire, that it is to you that we 
owe the place and the start in life. 

MAIRE 

I never looked on the place as my own. 

JAMES 

And now that the land is in Anne's name, my father 
will be glad to stock the place. 

MAIRE 

You have all our will of the place. Father, speak to 
James and tell him that he has your will of the place. 



60 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 



CONN {turning from door) 

Indeed you have, James, and we're overglad to have 
Anne settled with a steady boy. 

JAMES 

Well, long life to you, Conn; and may the man of 
art never want fame nor a friend. 
CONN (going to dresser) 

Drink to that, James. I 

l^He takes up a bottle and fills two glasses. 

JAMES 

I never touch anything, Conn; but if Anne won't 
think bad of me, I'll drink to your prosperity. 

ANNE 

I won't be watching you at all. (She goes to door. 
To Maire) I'm going down the road, and if there's 
any one coming here, I'll let you know. 
\lAnne goes out. James takes the glass from Conn. 

JAMES 

Here's to the fiddler, first of all. May it be again like 
in the days of Ireland's glory, when the men of art had 
their rights and their dues. 
[^He drinks. 

CONN 

Long life to yourself, James Moynihan. (Conn 
drinks) I know you a long time now, and I know 
nothing to your discredit. You're one of the few 
people here that are to my liking. Well, if I'm noth- 
ing to them, they're nothing to me. I Hved my own 
life, and I had the gift. 
JAMES (with excitement) 

If Anne was here, I'd drink to her. I must go after 
Anne. May she never repent of her choice. (He goes 
to the door, then turns round) But sure I'm forget^ 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 61 

ting the jewel of them all, yourself, Maire Hourican. 
Long may you reign in splendour and success, and 
in the wish of your heart. [^James Moynihan goes out. 
Conn Hourican goes back to the door, and remains 
looking out. Maire stands at fire. 

CONN t. 

It's strange to be looking across that door, and the 
sun setting for our journey. And now we're letting 
the place go out of our hands. Well, Honor Gilroy's 
bit of land has been brought to a great many people. 
£He conies down to dresser. Maire goes up to window, 
and remains looking out. 

CONN 

Is there any one coming here, Maire? 

MAIRE 

There is no one coming. It's no wonder James's 
father thought the place was bare-looking. 

CONN 

Well, the bit of land is going to James, and I was 

saying that it has been brought to a great many 

people. 

f^Maire takes paper out, and looks at it. 

CONN 

What paper is that, Maire? 

MAIRE 

It's a paper that I have to put my name to. (She 
goes and sits at table) There's a pen and ink near 
your hand on the dresser, and you might give them 
to me. It's about giving this place to Anne, and 
James's father wants my name on the paper. 

CONN 

Well, isn't James's father the councillor, with his 
paper and his signing? {He brings pen and ink from 



62 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

dresser, and leaves them on table. Maire makes prepa- 
rations for writing. Conn lights candle at fire, and 
brings it over to table) And does that give the place 
to Anne for ever? 

MAIRE 

It gives it to herself. {Maire signs the paper with the 
slowness of one unaccustomed to ivriting) It will be a 
great change for us when we come back to this place. 
CONN {going to chair at fire) 

It will be a great change for you and me, no matter 
what we say. 

MAIRE 

And now that James's father is putting stock on the 
land, the Moynihans will have great call to the place. 

CONN 

Maire, your father is thinking of taking to the road. 

MAIRE 

And how long would you be staying on the roads? 

CONN 

Ah, what is there to bring me back to this country, 
Maire? 

MAIRE 

Sure you're not thinking of going on the roads alto- 
gether? 

CONN 

The road for the fiddler. 

MAIRE 

Would you leave the shelter and the settled life? 
Would you go on the road by yourself? 

CONN 

Anne and yourself will be settled, and I'll have the 
years before me. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 63 

MAIRE 

Then you'd go on the roads by yourself? 

CONN 

Sure I did it before, Maire. 

MAIRE 

Ah, but do you not remember the prayers that mother 
used to say for us to get some shelter? Do you not 
remember how proud and glad we were when we 
come by a place of our own? 

CONN 

The shelter was for Anne and yourself. What had 
I to do with it? 

MAIRE 

The Moynihans are not the sort to make us feel 
strangers in the place. 

CONN 

The place was your own, Maire, and you gave it to 
your sister rather than see her waiting years and 
years. 

MAIRE 

I came to give it to her after I saw how hard I was 
on yourself. 

CONN 

Listen, my jewel, even if the Moynihans had nothing 
to do with the place, what would Conn Hourican the 
fiddler be doing in this country? 

MAIRE 

Ah, there are many you might play to; there are lots 
that know about music. There's Michael Gilpatrick 
and John Molloy — 

CONN 

And that's all, Maire. 



64 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

MAIRE 

You might go to Flynn's an odd time. 

CONN 

And what do they know about music in Flynn's? 
Young Corney Myles was up there a while ago, and 
you'd think, from what the men said, that there was 
never the like of Corney for playing, and the boy isn't 
three years at the fiddle. 

MAIRE 

Father, stay here where the shelter is. 

CONN 

Sure, I'd be getting ould, and staying in the chimney- 
corner, with no one to talk to me, for you'd be going 
to a place of your own, and Anne, after a while, would 
have too much to mind. 

MAIRE 

The people here are kinder than you think. 

CONN 

But what has Conn Hourican to do with them any- 
how? The very greatest were glad of my playing, 
and were proud to know me. 

MAIRE 

I know that, father. 

CONN 

Well, one is always meeting new life upon the roads, 
and I want to spend the years I have before me going 
from place to place. 
MAIRE {going to him) 

If you took to the roads, I'd think I ought to go with 
you, for we were always together. 

CONN 

Ah, Maire, there are some that would keep you here. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 65 

MAIRE 

Do you know who would keep me here? 

CONN 

Brian MacConnell is very fond of you. 

MAIRE 

Do you know that, father? 

CONN 

And I know that you are fond of Brian. {There is no 
answer) That my jewel may have luck and pros- 
perity. {Goes towards room door, leaving Maire stand- 
ing there) I'll be taking this fiddle, Maire. 

MAIRE 

Oh, are we going on the roads? 

CONN 

To Ardagh, Maire. 

MAIRE 

To Ardagh. 

CONN 

I'll go up now, and make ready. 

[He takes candle off table, and goes back towards room 

door. 

MAIRE 

Oh, what do I know about Brian MacConnell, after 
all? 

CONN 

Brian is wild, but he is free-handed. 

MAIRE 

Wild and free-handed! Are all men like that? Wild 
and free-handed! But that's not the sort of man I 
want to look to now. 

CONN 

That's nothing to Brian's discredit. 



66 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

MAIRE 

Ah, what do I know about Brian MacConnell, except 
that he's a man of quarrels and broken words? 
[^Conn holds up his hand warningly. Brian Mac- 
Connell comes to door. 
CONN {opening half-door) 
You're welcome, Brian. 

BRIAN 

Thank you for the good word. Conn. 
^He comes in. 

MAIRE 

You're welcome, Brian MacConnell. 
CONN (taking candle off dresser) 

I was going up to the room to make ready, but Maire 
will be glad to speak to you. I knew you wouldn't let 
us go without wishing us the luck of the road. 
\^Goes up to room. Maire goes and sits on settle. 

MAIRE 

Brian MacConnell has come to us again. 

BRIAN 

I'm before you again. Let me tell you what I was 
doing since I was here last. 

MAIRE 

What were you doing, Brian? Making quarrels, may 
be? 
BRIAN (startled) 

Why do you say that? 

MAIRE 

I'm thinking that you were doing what would become 
you, Brian MacConnell, with the free hand and the 
wild heart. 

BRIAN 

They were telling you about me? 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 67 

MAIRE 

I know you, Brian MacConnell. 

BRIAN 

You don't know how I care for you, or you couldn't 
talk to me like that. Many's the time I left the spade 
in the ground, and went across the bogs and the 
rushes, to think of you. You come between me and 
the work I'd be doing. Ay, and if Heaven opened 
out before me, you would come between me and 
Heaven itself. 

MAIRE 

It's easy taking a girl's heart. 

BRIAN 

And I long to have more than walls and a roof to 
offer you. I'd have jewels and gold for you. I'd 
have ships on the sea for you. 

MAIRE 

It's easy to take a girl's heart with the words of a song. 

BRIAN 

I'm building a house for you, Maire. I'm raising it 
day by day. 

MAIRE 

You left me long by myself. 

BRIAN 

It's often I came to see the light in the window. 

MAIRE 

Brian, my father wants to go back to the roads. 
\_Brian goes and sits by her. 

BRIAN 

I know that Conn would like to go back. 

MAIRE 

He wants to go on the roads, to go by himself from 
place to place. 



68 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

BRIAN 

Maybe he has the right to go. 

MAIRB 

He has the right to go. It's the Ufe of a fiddler to 
be on the roads. 

BRIAN 

But you won't go on the roads. 

MAIRE 

Oh, what am I to do, Brian? 

BRIAN 

Do you think of me at all, Maire? 

MAIRE 

Indeed I think of you. Until to-day I'd neither 
laugh nor cry but on account of you. 

BRIAN 

I'm building a house, and it will be white and fine, and 
it's for you that I'm building the house. 

MAIRB 

You're going to ask for my promise. 

BRIAN 

Give me your promise before you go to Ardagh. 
\_Maire rises. 

MAIRE 

If I gave you my promise now, I'd have great delight 
in coming back to this place again. 

BRIAN 

You won't deny me, my jewel of love? 

MAIRE 

Oh, I'm very fond of Aughnalee. I feel that I was 
reared in the place. I'd like to live all my life in the 
place. 

BRIAN 

And why would you go from it? 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 69 

MAIEB 

You might come with us to Ardagh, Brian. 

BRIAN 

Your father might stay with us when he'd be in this 
country. 

MAIRE 

That's true; I'm glad to think on that. 

BRIAN 

Give me your promise, Maire. 

MAIRE 

We'll talk on the road. There's the blackbird. I'll 
hear him every evening on the road, and I'll think 
I'm a day nearer home. 

BRIAN 

Sure you'd leave them all to come with me. 

MAIRE 

Ay, I think I would. {She takes up a new kerchief, and 
puis it on her, standing before the mirror) Do you 
know where I saw you first, Brian? 

BRIAN 

Where was it, Maire? 

MAIRE 

In a field by the road. You were breaking a horse. 

BRIAN 

I was always a good hand with a horse. 

MAIRE 

The poor beast was covered with foam and sweat, 
and at last you made it still. I thought it was grand 
then. 
[^She sings. 

I know where I'm going, 

I know who's going with me. 



70 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

I know who I love, 
But the dear knows who I'll marry. 
Are your brothers with you, Brian? 

BRIAN 

Is it building with me? 

MAIRE 

Building with you? 
l^She sings. 

Some say he's dark, 

I say he's bonny. 

He's the flower of the flock. 

My charming, coaxing Johnny. 
BRIAN (with sombre passion) 

No. My brothers are not with me. I quarrelled with 
them all and I am nearly heart broken for what I did. 

MAIRE 

Ah, Brian MacCoimell, I don't know what to say to 
you at all. 

BRIAN 

You'll give me your promise, Maire? 

MAIRE 

Promise. I've no promise to give to any man. 

BRIAN 

Remember that these days past I had only yourself 
to think on. 

MAIRE 

There was never a man but failed me some time. 
They all leave me to face the world alone. 

BRIAN 

You said that I might go with you as far as Ardagh. 

MAIRE 

No. You're not to come. Myself and my father go 
to Ardagh by ourselves. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 71 

BRIAN 

How was I to know that you would take that 
quarrel to heart? 

MAIRE 

I thought you were strong, but I see now that you 
are only a man who forces himself to harsh behaviour. 
I have my own way to go; my father wants to go 
back to the roads, and it's right that I should be 
with him, to watch over him. 

BRIAN 

What shelter will you have on the road? 

MAIRE 

I'll have the quiet of evening, and my own thoughts, 
and I'll follow the music; I'll laugh and hold up my 
head again. 

BRIAN 

Maire Hourican, would you leave me? 

MAIRE 

What can I do for you, Brian MacConnell? 

[^Brian goes to settle, and puts his hands before his eyes. 

She goes to him. 

BRIAN 

You have thought for your father, and you have no 
thought for me. 

MAIRE 

Indeed I have thought for you. 

BRIAN 

O Maire, my jewel, do you care for me at all? 

[^She kisses him. 

BRIAN 

Maire! 
l_She rises. 



72 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

MAIRE 

I'm going to call my father. 

BRIAN 

You go to him, and you go from me. 

MAIRE 

You are both my care: my father and yourself. 

BRIAN 

What will become of me when you go? 

MAIRE 

Isn't it right, Brian, that I should be with my father 
on the roads? Even if I was in your house, I would 
be thinking that I should watch over him. 

BRIAN 

Then it's good-bye you'd be saying? 

MAIRE 

Good-bye, Brian MacConnell. 

BRIAN (at door) 

Good-bye, Maire Hourican; gold and jewels, ships 
on the sea, may you have them all. 
\^ne goes out. With a cry Maire follows him to the 
door. She stands before door for a minute, then she 
goes back to table, and throunng herself down, remains 
with her head buried in her hands. James Moynihan 
comes in. Maire raises her head, and remains looking 
before her. James comes to table, and puts flowers 
beside Maire. 

JAMES 

We gathered them for you, Maire. They're the 
woodbine. We were saying that you would be glad 
of the flower of the road. (Maire puts her hand on 
the flowers. James goes to the fire) Anne remembers 
a good deal about the road. She minds of the grassy 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 73 

ditches, where the two of you used to catch the young 
birds. 

MAIRE 

I mind of them too. 

JAMES 

And the women that used to be with your mother, 
that used to tell you the stories. 

MAIRE 

And the things we used to talk about after a story! 
There's the turn of the road, and who's waiting for 
you? If it's your sweetheart, what will you say to 
him? 

JAMES 

I'm often taken with the thought of the road! Going 
to the fair on a bright morning, I'd often wish to 
leave everything aside and follow the road. 
{^A fiddle is heard outside. Conn Hourican comes down, 
dressed for the road. He has on the greatcoat. He carries 
fiddle. He puts fiddle on dresser. 

CONN 

What music is that, James? 

JAMES 

Some of the boys are coming to meet you, and they 
have a fiddle with them. 

CONN 

Well, now, that's friendly of the boys. 

JAMES 

I'll go out now, and let them know that you're coming. 
(He goes to door) Brian MacConnell turned the 
other way, and Anne went after him. 
]^He goes out. 
CONN (anxiously) 

Why did Brian MacConnell go away? 



74 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

MAIRE 

We didn't agree; no, not after all you said. 

CONN 

Maybe we'll see Brian at Ardagh. 

MAIRE 

How would lie ever come back when I bid him go 
from me? 

CONN 

You bid Brian go from you! {He goes to the window) 
And there was myself that had the mind to go on the 
road that I see stretched out before me. 
MAIRE {going to him) 

You need never come back here. 

CONN 

I'll come back with yourself. 

MAIRE 

I remember the time when we were on the roads. I 
remember sights we used to see! Little towns here, 
and big towns far away, and always the road. 

CONN 

And the lasting kindness of the road! 

MAIRE 

There is no need for you to come back here, father. 

CONN 

And would you follow the road? 

MAIRE 

Go back to the fiddler's life, and I'll go back with 
you. We'll see Anne and James at Ardagh, and we'll 
be at their marriage. {She turns round as though to 
take farewell of the house) It's right that this place 
should go to Anne. The house wasn't for you, and 
it wasn't for me either, I begin to think. 
\_Anne comes in. 



THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 75 

ANNE (with a cry) 

Maire, you are going on the roads! 

MAIRE 

How do you know that? 

ANNE 

You bid Brian MacConnell go from you, and where 
else would you go but on the roads? 
[^She goes to the settle and throws herself down, her 
hands before her face. Maire puts cloak on. Conn 
goes to Anne. He takes her hands from her face and 
holds them. 

CONN 

Don't be grieving that we're going from you, Anne. 
When you come back here again, your own care will 
begin. I know that you grieve for Maire going from 
you, and my own heart is unquiet for her. (He goes 
to dresser, takes fiddle and wraps it up. He puts hat on. 
Maire goes to settle, and sits beside Anne) Well, here's 
Conn Hourican the fiddler going on his travels again. 
No man knows how his own life will end; but them 
who have the gift have to follow the gift. I'm leaving 
this house behind me; and maybe the time will come 
when I'll be climbing the hills and seeing this little 
house with the tears in my eyes. I'm leaving the 
land behind me, too; but what's land after all against 
the music that comes from the far, strange places, 
when the night is on the ground, and the bird in the 
grass is quiet? 

[_The fiddle is heard again. Conn Hourican goes to 
door. Maire embraces Anne again, rises and goes to 
door. Anne follows slowly. Conn goes out. Maire 
turns to Anne. 



76 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 

MAIRE 

Tell Brian MacConnell that when we meet again 
maybe we can be kinder to each other. 
{Maire Hourican goes out with Conn. Anne is left 
standing at the door in the dusk. 

END OF PLAY 



The Fiddler's House was first produced on 21st 
March, 1907, by the Theatre of Ireland, in the Rotunda, 
Dublin, with the following cast: — 

Conn Hourican Joseph Goggin 

Maire Hourican Maire Nic Shiubhlaigh 

Anne Hourican Eileen O'Doherty 

Brian MacConnell Ed. Keegan 

James Moynihan P. Mac Siubhlaigh 



THE LAND: AN AGRARIAN 
COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 



CHARACTERS 

MuRTAGH CosGAR, a farmer 
Matt, his son 
Sallt, his daughter 
Martin Douras, a farmer 
Cornelius, his son 
Ellen, his daughter 
A group of men 
A group of boys and girls 

The scene is laid in the Irish Midlands, present time. 



ACT I 

The interior of Murtagh Cosgar's. It is a large flagged 
kitchen with the entrance on the right. The dresser is 
below the entrance. There is a large fireplace in the back, 
and a room door to the left of the fireplace; the harness- 
rack is between room door and fireplace. The yard door 
is on the left. The table is down from the room door. 
There are benches around fireplace. 

It is the afternoon of a May day. Sally Cosgar is 
kneeling near the entrance chopping up cabbage-leaves 
with a kitchen-knife. She is a girl of twenty-five, dark, 
heavily built, with the expression of a half-awakened 
creature. She is coarsely dressed, and has a sacking 
apron. She is quick at work, and rapid and impetuous 
in speech. She is talking to herself. 

SALLY 

Oh, you may go on grunting, yourself and your litter, 
it won't put me a bit past my own time. You oul' 
black baste of a sow, sure I'm slaving to you all the 
spring. We'll be getting rid of yourself and your 
litter soon enough, and may the devil get you when 
we lose you. 

\_Cornelius comes to the door. He is a tall young man 
with a slight stoop. His manners are solemn, and his 
expression somewhat vacant. 

CORNELIUS 

Good morrow, Sally. May you have the good of the 
day. {He comes in) 



84 THE LAND 



SALLY (impetuously) 

Ah, God reward you, Cornelius Douras, for coming 
in. I'm that busy keeping food to a sow and a litter 
of pigs that I couldn't get beyond the gate to see 
any one. 

CORNELIUS (solemnly) 

You're a good girl, Sally. You're not like some I 
know. There are girls in this parish who never put 
hands to a thing till evening, when the boys do be 
coming in. Then they begin to stir themselves the 
way they'll be thought busy and good about a house. 

SALLY (pleased and beginning to chop again with renewed 
energy) 

' Oh, it's true indeed for you, Cornelius. There are 
girls that be decking themselves, and sporting are 
themselves all day. 

CORNELIUS 

I may say that I come over to your father's, Murtagh 
Cosgar's house, this morning, thinking to meet the 
men. 

SALLY 

i What men, Cornelius Douras? 

CORNELIUS 

Them that are going to meet the landlord's people 
with an offer for the land. We're not buying ourselves, 
unfortunately, but this is a great day — the day of 
the redemption, my father calls it — and I'd like to 
have some hand in the work if it was only to say a 
few words to the men. 

SALLY 

It's a wonder Martin, your father isn't on the one 
errand with you. 



THE LAND 



CORNELIUS 

We came out together, but the priest stopped father 
and us on the road. Father Bartley wanted his 
advice, I suppose. Ah, it's a pity the men won't have 
some one hke my father with them! He was in gaol 
for the Cause. Besides, he's a well-discoursed man, 
and a reading man, and, moreover, a man with a 
classical knowledge of English, Latin, and the Hiber- 
nian vernacular. 

{^Martin Douras comes in. He is a man of about sixty, 
with a refined, scholarly look. His manner is subdued 
and nervous. He has a stoop, and is clean-shaven. 

CORNELIUS 

I was just telling Sally here what a great day it is, 
father. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Ay, it's a great day, no matter what our own troubles 
may be. I should be going home again. (He takes a 
newspaper out of his pocket, and leaves it on the table) 

CORNELIUS 

Wait for the men, father. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Maybe they'll be here soon. Is Murtagh in, Sally? 
{^Cornelius takes the paper up, and begins to read it. 

SALLY 

He's down at the bottoms, Martin. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

He's going to Arvach Fair, maybe. 

SALLY 

He is in troth. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

I'll be asking him for a lift. He'll be going to the 
Fair when he come back from the lawyer's, I suppose? 



86 THE LAND 



SALLY 

Ay, he'll be going to-night. 

{She gathers the chopped cabbage into her apron, and 
goes to the door) 
SALLY {at the door) 
Cornelius. 

[^Cornelius puts down the paper, and goes to the door. 
Sally goes out. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Cornelius! 

[^Cornelius goes to Martin. 
SALLY {outside) 

Cornelius, give me a hand with this. 
\_Cornelius turns again. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Cornelius, I want to speak to you. 
[^Cornelius goes to him. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

There is something on my mind, Cornelius. 

CORNELIUS 

What is it, father.? 

MARTIN DOURAS 

It's about our Ellen. Father Bartley gave me news 
for her. "I've heard of a school that'll suit Ellen," 
says he. "It's in the County Leitrim." 

CORNELIUS 

If it was in Dublin itself, Ellen is qualified to take it 
on. And won't it be grand to have one of our family 
teaching in a school? 
MARTIN DOURAS {with a sigh) 

I wouldn't stand in her way, Cornelius; I wouldn't 
stand in her way. But won't it be a poor thing for 
an old man like me to have no one to discourse with 



THE LAND 87 



in the long evenings? For when I'm talking with 
you, Cornelius, I feel like a boy who lends back all 
the marbles he's won, and plays again, just for the 
sake of the game. 

CORNELIUS 

We were in dread of Ellen going to America at one 
time, and then she went in for the school. Now Matt 
Cosgar may keep her from the school. Maybe we 
won't have to go further than this house to see Ellen. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

I'm hoping it'll be like that; but I'm in dread that 
Murtagh Cosgar will never agree to it. He's a hard 
man to deal with. Still Murtagh and myself will be 
on the long road to-night, and we might talk of it. 
I'm afeard of Ellen going. 
CORNELIUS (at the door) 

It's herself that's coming here, father. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Maybe she has heard the news and is coming to tell us. 
[_Ellen comes in. She has a shawl over her head which 
she lays aside. She is about twenty-five, slightly built, 
nervous, emotional. 

ELLEN 

Is it only ourselves that's here? 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Only ourselves. Did you get any news to bring you 
over, Ellen? 

ELLEN 

No news. It was the shine of the day that brought 
me out; and I was thinking, too, of the girls that 
are going to America in the morning, and that made 
me restless. 
[_Martin and Cornelius look significantly at each other. 



88 THE LAND 



MARTIN DOURAS 

And did you see Matt, Ellen? 

ELLEN 

He was in the field and I coming up; but I did not 
wait for him, as I don't want people to see us together. 
(Restlessly) I don't know how I can come into this 
house, for it's always like Murtagh Cosgar. There's 
nothing of Matt in it at all. If Matt would come 
away. There are little labourers' houses by the side 
of the road. Many's the farmer's son became a 
labourer for the sake of a woman he cared for! 

CORNELIUS 

And are you not thinking about the school at all, 
Ellen? 

ELLEN 

I'll hear about it some time, I suppose. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

You're right to take it that way, Ellen. School 
doesn't mean scholarship now. Many's the time 
I'm telling Cornelius that a man farming the land, 
with a few books on his shelf and a few books in his 
head, has more of the scholar's life about him than 
the young fellows who do be teaching in schools and 
teaching in colleges. 

CORNELIUS 

That's all very well, father. School and scholarship 
isn't the one. But think of the word " Constantinople ! " 
I could leave off herding and digging every time I 
think on that word! 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Ah, it's a great word. A word like that would make 
you think for days. And there are many words like 
that. 



THE LAND 89 



ELLEN 

It's not SO much the long words that we've to learn 
and teach now. When will you be home, father? 
Will Cornelius be with you? 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Ellen, I have news for you. There is a school in 
Leitrim that Father Bartley can let you have, 

ELLEN 

In Leitrim! Did you tell Matt about it? 

MARTIN DOURAS 

I did not, 

[^Sally is heard calling "Cornelius.'^ Cornelius goes to 

the door. 

CORNELIUS 

Here's Matt now. The benefit of the day to you, Matt. 
[^He stands aside to let Matt enter. Matt Cosgar is a 
young peasant of about twenty-eight. He is handsome 
and well-built. He is dressed in a trousers, shirt, and 
coat, and has a felt hat on. Cornelius goes out. 
MATT (going to Ellen) 
You're welcome, Ellen. Good morrow, Martin, It's 
a great day for the purchase, Martin, 

MARTIN DOURAS 

A great day, indeed, thank God, 

MATT 

Ah, it's a great thing to feel the ownership of the land, 
Martin, 

MARTIN DOURAS 

I don't doubt but it is, 

MATT 

Look at the young apple-trees, Ellen. Walking up this 
morning, I felt as glad of them as a young man would 
be glad of the sweetheart he saw coming towards him. 



90 THE LAND 



ELLEN 

Ay, there's great gladness and shine in the day. 

MATT 

It seems to trouble you. 

ELLEN 

It does trouble me. 

MATT 

Why? 

ELLEN 

Everything seems to be saying, "There's something 
here, there's something going." 

MATT 

Ay, a day like this often makes you feel that way. 
It's a great day for the purchase though. How many 
years ought we to offer, Ellen? 
l^Martin goes out. 

ELLEN 

Twenty years, I suppose — (suddenly) Matt ! 

MATT 

What is it, Ellen? 

ELLEN 

I have got an offer of a school in the County Leitrim. 

MATT 

I wish they'd wait, Ellen. I wish they'd wait till I 
had something to offer you. 

ELLEN 

I'm a long time waiting here, Matt. 

MATT 

Sure we're both young. 

ELLEN 

This is summer now. There will be autumn in a 
month or two. The year will have gone by without 
bringing me anything. 



THE LAND 91 



MATT 

He'll be letting me have my own way soon, my father 
will. 

ELLEN 

Murtagh Cosgar never let a child of his have their 
own way. 

MATT 

When the land's bought out, he'll be easier to deal 
with. 

ELLEN 

When he owns the land, he'll never let a son of his 
marry a girl without land or fortune. 

MATT 

Ellen, Ellen, I'd lose house and land for you. Sure 
you know that, Ellen. My brothers and sisters took 
their freedom. They went from this house and away 
to the ends of the world. Maybe I don't differ from 
them so much. But I've put my work into the land, 
and I'm beginning to know the land. I won't lose it, 
Ellen. Neither will I lose you. 

ELLEN 

O Matt, what's the land after all? Do you ever think 
of America? The streets, the shops, the throngs? 

MATT 

The land is better than that when you come to know 
it, Ellen. 

ELLEN 

May be it is. 

MATT 

I've set my heart on a new house. Ay and he'll build 
one for us when he knows my mind. 

ELLEN 

Do you think he'd build a new house for us, Matt? 



92 THE LAND 



I could settle down if we were by ourselves. Maybe 
it's true that there are things stirring and we could 
begin a new life, even here. 

MATT 

We can, Ellen, we can. Hush! father's without. 
[^Martin Douras and Murtagh Cosgar are heard ex- 
changing greetings. Then Murtagh comes in, Martin 
behind him. Murtagh Cosgar is about sixty. He is a 
hard, strong man, seldom-spoken, but with a flow of 
words and some satirical power. He is still powerful, 
mentally and physically. He is clean shaven, and wears 
a sleeved waistcoat, heavy boots, felt hat. He goes towards 
Ellen. 

MURTAGH 

Good morrow to you. (Turning to Matt) When I 
get speaking to that Sally again, she'll remember what 
I say. Giving cabbage to the pigs, and all the bad 
potatoes in the house. And I had to get up in the 
clouds of the night to turn the cows out of the young 
meadow. No thought, no care about me. Let you 
take the harness outside and put a thong where 
there's a strain in it. 

\^Murtagh goes to the fire. Matt goes to the harness-rack. 
Martin Douras and Ellen are at the door. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Ellen, I'll have news for you when I see you again. 
I've made up my mind to that. 

ELLEN 

Are you going to the fair, father? 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Ay, with Murtagh. 

ELLEN 

God be with you, father. {She goes out) 



THE LAND 93 



MARTIN DOURAS 

What purchase are you thinking of offering, Murtagh? 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Twenty years. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

It's fair enough. Oh, it's a great day for the country, 
no matter what our own troubles may be. 
[_MaU has taken down the harness. He takes some of it 
up and goes out to yard. 
MURTAGH COSGAR (with some contempt) 

It's a pity you haven't a share in the day after all. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Ay, it's a pity indeed. 
[^Murtagh goes to the door. 
MURTAGH COSGAR (with Suppressed enthusiasm) 
From this day out we're planted in the soil. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Ay, we're planted in the soil. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

God, it's a great day. 
{^Cornelius comes back. '. 

CORNELIUS 

This is a memorial occasion, Murtagh Cosgar, and I 
wish you the felicitations of it. I met the delegates 
and I coming in, and I put myself at the head of them. 
It's the day of the redemption, Murtagh Cosgar. 
\_Murtagh, without speaking, goes up to the room left. 

CORNELIUS 

He's gone up to get the papers. Father, we must 
give the men understanding for this business. They 
must demand the mineral rights. Here they are. 
Men of Ballykillduff, I greet your entrance. 
'[^Six men enter discussing. 



94 THE LAND 



FIRST MAN 

We'll leave it to Murtagh Cosgar. Murtagh Cosgar 
isn't a grazier or a shopkeeper. 

SECOND MAN 

It's the graziers and shopkeepers that are putting a 
business head on this. 

THIRD MAN 

If we're all on the one offer, we can settle it at the 
lawyer's. 

FOURTH MAN 

Sure it's settled for twenty years on the first-term 
rents. 

FIFTH MAN 

There are some here that would let it go as high as 
twenty-three. 

SIXTH MAN 

What does Murtagh Cosgar say? 

SOME OF THE MEN 

We'll take the word from him. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

He mentioned twenty years. 

SECOND MAN 

Not as a limit, surely? 

OTHER MEN 

We're not for any higher offer. 

SECOND MAN 

Well, men, this is all I have to say. If you can get 
it for twenty, take it, and my blessing with it. But 
I want to be dealing with the Government, and not 
with landlords and agents. To have a straight bar- 
gain between myself and the Government, I'd put it 
up to twenty-three, ay, up to twenty-five years' 
purchase. 



THE LAND 95 



THIRD MAN 

More power to you, Councillor. There's some sense 
in that. 

SIXTH MAN 

I'm with the Councillor. 

FIRST MAN 

It's all very well for graziers and shopkeepers to 
talk, but what about the small farmer? 

FOURTH MAN 

The small farmer. That's the man that goes under. 
FIFTH MAN (knocMng at the table) 
Murtagh Cosgar! Murtagh Cosgar! 

CORNELIUS 

I tell you, men, that Murtagh Cosgar is in agreement 
with myself. Twenty years, I say, first term, no 
more. Let my father speak. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

There's a great deal to be said on both sides, men. 

FIRST MAN 

Here's Murtagh now. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Twenty years first term, that's what I agreed to. 

SECOND MAN 

And if they don't rise to that, Murtagh? 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Let them wait. We can wait. I won't be going with 
you, men. I had a few words with the agent about 
the turbary this morning, and maybe you're better 
without me. 

FIRST MAN 

All right, Murtagh. We can wait. 

FOURTH MAN 

We know our own power now. 



96 THE LAND 



FIFTH MAN 

Come on, men. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

If they don't rise to it, bide a while. We can make a 
new offer. 

SECOND MAN 

We want to be settled by the Fall. 

THIRD MAN 

The Councillor is right. We must be settled by the 
Fall. 

SIXTH MAN 

A man who's a farmer only has little sense for a 
business like this. 

SECOND MAN 

We'll make the offer, Murtagh Cosgar, and bide a 
while. But we must be settled this side of the Fall. 
We'll offer twenty years first term. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Do, and God speed you. 
CORNELIUS {to the men going out) 

I told you Murtagh Cosgar and myself are on the 

one offer. And Murtagh is right again when he 

says that you can bide your time. But make sure 

of the mineral rights, men; make sure of the mineral 

rights. 

[The men go out; Cornelius follows them. 

MURTAGH COSGAR {with ITOny) 

Musha, but that's a well-discoursed lad. It must be 
great to hear the two of you at it. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

God be good to Cornelius. There's little of the world's 
harm in the boy. 



THE LAND 97 



MURTAGH COSGAR 

He and my Sally would make a great match of it. 
She's a bright one, too. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Murtagh Cosgar, have you no feeling for your own 
flesh and blood? 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Too much feeling, maybe. {He stands at the door in 
silence. With sudden enthusiasm) Ah, but that's the 
sight to fill one's heart. Lands ploughed and spread. 
And all our own; all our own. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

All our own, ay. But we made a hard fight for them. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Ay. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Them that come after us will never see them as we're 
seeing them now. 

MURTAGH COSGAR {turning round) 

Them that come after us. Isn't that a great thought, 
Martin Douras? and isn't it a great thing that we're 
able to pass this land on to them, and it redeemed 
for ever? Ay, and their manhood spared the shame 
that our manhood knew. Standing in the rain with 
our hats off to let a landlord — ay, or a landlord's 
dog-boy — pass the way ! 

MARTIN DOURAS {moumfully) 

May it be our own generation that will be in it. Ay, 
but the young are going fast; the young are going fast. 

MURTAGH COSGAR {stemly) 
Some of them are no loss. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Ten of your own children went, Murtagh Cosgar. 



98 THE LAND 



MURTAGH COSGAR 

I never think of them. When they went from my 
control, they went from me altogether. There's the 
more for Matt. 
MURTiN DOURAs {moistening his mouth, and beginning 
very nervously) Ay, Matt. Matt's a good lad. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

There's little fear of him leaving now. 
MARTIN DOURAS (nervously) 

Maybe, maybe. But, mind you, Murtagh Cosgar, 
there are things — little things, mind you. Least, 
ways, what we call little things. And, after all, who 
are we to judge whether a thing — 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Is there anything on your mind, Martin Douras? 
MARTIN DOURAS (hurriedly) 

No; oh, no. I was thinking — I was thinking, may- 
be you'd give me a lift towards Arvach, if you'd be 
going that way this night. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Ay, why not? 

MARTIN DOURAS 

And we could talk about the land, and about Matt, 
too. Wouldn't it be a heart-break if any of our chil- 
dren went — because of a thing we might — 

MURTAGH COSGAR (fiercely) 

What have you to say about Matt? 

MARTIN DOURAS (stammering) 

Nothing except in a — in what you might call a 
general way. There's many a young man left house 
and land for the sake of some woman, Murtagh Cosgar. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

There's many a fool did it. 



THE LAND 99 



MARTIN DOURAS {going to door) 

Ay, maybe; maybe. I'll be going now, Murtagh. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Stop! {clutching him) You know about Matt. 
What woman is he thinking of? 
MARTIN DOURAS {frightened) 

We'll talk about it again, Murtagh. I said I'd be 
back. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

We'll talk about it now. Who is she.^* What name 
has she? 
MARTIN DOURAS {breaking from him and speaking with 
sudden dignity) 

It's a good name, Murtagh Cosgar; it's my own 
name. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Your daughter ! Ellen ! You're — 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Ay, a good name, and a good girl. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

And do you think a son of mine would marry a daugh- 
ter of yours? 

MARTIN DOURAS 

What great difference is between us, after all? 
MURTAGH COSGAR {fiercely) 

The daughter of a man who'd be sitting over his fire 
reading his paper, and the clouds above his potatoes, 
and the cows trampling his oats. {Martin is beaten 
down) Do you know me at all, Martin Douras? I 
came out of a little house by the roadway and built 
my house on a hill. I had many children. Coming 
home in the long evenings, or kneeling still when the 
prayers would be over, I'd have my dreams. A son 



100 THE LAND 



in Aughnalee, a son in Ballybrian, a son in Dunmore, 
a son of mine with a shop, a son of mine saying Mass 
in Killnalee. And I have a living name — a name in 
flesh and blood. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

God help you, Murtagh Cosgar. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

But I've a son still. It's not your daughter he'll be 
marrying. {He strides to the door and calls Matt) 
MARTIN DOURAS (going to him) 

Murtagh Cosgar — for God's sake — we're both old 
men, Murtagh Cosgar. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

You've read many stories, Martin Douras, and you 
know many endings. You'll see an ending now, and 
it will be a strong ending, and a sudden ending. 
\^Matt comes in. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

You're wanted here. 

MATT 

I heard you call, (He sits on table) So they're 
sticking to the twenty years. 
MARTIN DOURAS (eagerly) 

Twenty years, Matt, and they'll get it for twenty. 
O, it's a great day for you both ! Father and son, you 
come into a single inheritance. What the father wins 
the son wields, 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

What the father wins, the son wastes. 

MATT 

What's the talk of father and son? 

MARTIN DOURAS 

They're the one flesh and blood. There's no more 



THE LAND 101 



strife between them than between the right hand and 
the left hand. 

MURTAGH COSGAR {tO Matt) 

We were talking about you. We were fixing a match 
for you. 

MATT (startled, looking at Martin Douras) 
Fixing a match for me? {He rises) 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Ay, Matt. Don't you think it's time to be making a 

match for you? 
MATT {sullenly, going to the door) 

Maybe it is. When you have chosen the woman, 

call. I'll be without. 
MURTAGH COSGAR (goiug to him) 

We haven't chosen yet. But it won't be Martin 

Douras' daughter, anyhow. 

MATT 

Stop. You drove all your living children away, 
except Sally and myself. You think Sally and myself 
are the one sort. 
MURTAGH COSGAR {tauntingly) 

Martin's daughter, Corney's sister. That's the girl 
for you! 

MATT 

We're not the one sort, I tell you. Martin Douras, 
isn't he a foolish old man that would drive all his 
children from him? What would his twenty years' 
purchase be to him then? 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

It wasn't for my children I worked. No, no; thank 
God; it wasn't for my children I worked. Go, if 
you will. I can be alone. 



102 THE LAND 



MARTIN DOURAS 

Murtagh, Murtagh, sure you know you can't be 
alone. We're two old men, Murtagh. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

He daren't go. 

MATT 

Because I'm the last of them he thinks he can dare 
me like that. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

There was more of my blood in the others. 

MATT 

Do you say that? 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Don't say it again. For God's sake, don't say it 
again, Murtagh. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

1 do say it again. Them who dared to go had more 
of my blood in them! 

MATT 

Ah, you have put me to it now, and I'm glad, glad. 
A little house, a bit of land. Do you think they could 
keep me here? 

MURTAGH COSGAR {to Martin Douras) 

It's his own way he wants. I never had my own way. 
(To Matt) You're my last son. You're too young to 
know the hardship there was in rearing you. 

MATT {exultantly) 

Your last son; that won't keep me here. I'm the 
last of my name, but that won't keep me here. I 
leave you your lands, your twenty years' purchase. 
Murtagh Cosgar, Murtagh Cosgar! isn't that a great 
name, Martin Douras — a name that's well planted. 



THE LAND 103 



a name for generations? Isn't he a lucky man that 
has a name for generations? {He goes out) 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

He can't go. How could he go and he the last of the 
name. Close the door, I say. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

He'll go to Ellen, surely. We'll lose both of them. 
Murtagh Cosgar, God comfort you and me. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Ellen; who's Ellen? Ay, that daughter of yours. 
Close the door, I say. 

{He sits down at fireplace. Martin Douras closes door 
and goes to him. 

CURTAIN 



ACT II 

Interior of Martin Douras\ The entrance is at back 
left. There is a dresser against wall back; a table down 
from dresser; room doors right and left. The fireplace 
is below the room door right; there are stools and chairs 
about it. There is a little bookcase left of the dresser, 
and a mirror beside it. There are patriotic and religious 
pictures on the wall. There are cups and saucers on table, 
and a teapot beside fire. It is afternoon still. Ellen Dour as 
is near the fire reading. Cornelius comes in slowly. 

CORNELIUS 

I left the men down the road a bit. We ought to take 
great pride out of this day, Ellen. Father did more 
than any of them to bring it about. 

ELLEN 

He suffered more than any of them. And it's little 
we'll get out of the day. 

CORNELIUS 

It's a great thing to have prophesied it, even. We'll 
be here to see a great change. 

ELLEN 

There will be no change to make things better! 

CORNELIUS 

Will you be taking that school, Ellen? 

ELLEN 

I'll wait a while. 

{Sally coming in; she is hurried. 



THE LAND 105 



SALLY (breathlessly) 

Oh, God save you, Cornelius. Tell me, is my father 
gone? I dread going back and he there! It was all 
over that baste of a sow that has kept me slaving all 
through the spring till I don't know whether greens 
or potatoes is the fittest for her! 

CORNELIUS 

He didn't go, Sally. I went down a bit of the road 
myseM with the men. 

SALLY 

Oh, God help me! And I'll have to be going back to 
boil meal for her now. How are you, Ellen. {She goes 
to Ellen) 

ELLEN 

Sit down for a while, Sally; it's a long time since I 
was speaking to you. 
[_Sally sits down beside Ellen. 

CORNELIUS 

I'll leave this paper where they won't be looking for 
pipe-lights. There are things in that paper I'd like 
to be saying. (He takes a newspaper out of his pocket 
and goes to room right) 

ELLEN (to Sally, who has been watching Cornelius) 

Tell me, Sally, are they always that busy in your 
house? Is your father as harsh as they say? 

SALLY 

Father 'ud keep us all working. He's a powerful 
great man. 

ELLEN 

Matt will be bringing a wife into the house soon from 
all I hear. How would your father treat her? 



106 THE LAND 



SALLY 

Oh, he'd have his way, and she'd have her way, I 
suppose. 

ELLEN 

And do you think your father will let him marry? 

SALLY 

Sure he must if the boy likes. 

ELLEN 

What would he say if Matt married a girl without a 
fortune? 

SALLY 

In my mother's country there are lots of girls with 
fortunes that Matt could have. 

ELLEN 

Supposing he wanted a girl that had no fortune? 

SALLY 

Oh, I suppose father would give in in the end. It 
wouldn't be clay against flint when Matt and father 
would be to it. 

ELLEN 

You're a good girl, Sally. If I was Matt's wife, do 
you think you'd be fond of me? 

SALLY 

I'd like you as well as another, Ellen. 
[^Cornelius comes down from room. 

CORNELIUS 

I suppose they'll be here soon. 

ELLEN 

I have tea ready for them. 

SALLY 

Who's coming at all? 

CORNELIUS 

Some of the boys and girls that are for America. 



THE LAND 107 



They are going to Gilroy's to-night, and are leaving 
from that in the morning. They are coming in to see 
Ellen on their way down. 

SALLY 

There are a good many going this flight. The land 
never troubles them in America, and they can wear 
fine clothes, and be as free as the larks over the bogs. 
It's a wonder you never thought of going, Ellen. 

ELLEN 

Father wouldn't like me to be far from him, and so 
I went in for the school instead. 

SALLY 

And now you've got a fine boy like Matt. It was 
lucky for you to be staying here. 

ELLEN 

Hush, Sally. 

SALLY 

Oh, I knew all about it before you talked to me at 

all. Matt always goes to the place where he thinks 

you'd be. 
ELLEN (rising) 

I'll be in the room when the girls come, Cornelius. 

l^She goes into room left. 
SALLY (going to Cornelius) 

God help us, but she's the silent creature. Isn't it a 

wonder she's not filled with talk of him after seeing 

him to-day? But Ellen's right. We shouldn't be 

talking about men, nor thinking about them either; 

and that's the way to keep them on our hands on the 

long run. I'll be going myself. 

[^She goes towards door. 
CORNELIUS (going to her) 

Don't be minding Ellen at all, Sally. 



108 THE LAND 



SALLY 

Well, as high as she is, and as mighty as she is, she 
came into his own house to see Matt. God between 
us and harm, Cornelius, maybe they'll be saying I 
came into your house to see you. 

CORNELIUS 

Who'll know you came at all? And what isn't seen 
won't be spoken of. 

SALLY 

Would you like me to stay, Cornelius? 

CORNELIUS 

Ay, I would. 

SALLY 

Divil mind the sow. 
[They sit down together. 
SALLY (after a pause) 

Would you Uke me to knit you a pair of socks, Cor- 
nelius? 

CORNELIUS 

Oh, I would, Sally; I'd love to wear them. 

SALLY 

I'll knit them. We'll be getting rid of the sow to- 
night, maybe, and I'll have time after that. 

CORNELIUS 

And you come along the road when I'm herding. I 
don't want to be going near your father's house. 

SALLY 

O Cornelius, it won't be lucky for us when father hears 
about Ellen and Matt. 

CORNELIUS 

That's true. No man sees his house afire but looks 
to his rick. 



THE LAND 109 



SALLY 

Come down a bit of the road with me, Cornehus. 
The sow will be grunting and grunting, reminding 
father that I'm away. Och, a minute ago I was as 
contented as if there was no land or pigs, or harsh 
words to trouble one. {She goes to the door) The 
boys and girls for America are coming here. 

CORNELIUS 

Give me your hands to hold, Sally. (She gives him 
her hands) We are as young as any of them after all. 
\They hold each other'' s hands, then stand apart. 

SALLY 

It's a fine time for them to be going when the leaves 
are opening on the trees. 

\_Three hoys and three girls enter. They are dressed for 
going away. 

SALLY 

God save you, girls. Good-bye, Cornelius. I'll have 
to run like a redshank. 

\_Sally goes out. 

CORNELIUS 

I'll call Ellen down to you. {He goes to the room door 
and calls) I'm going herding myself. Herding is 
pleasant when you have thoughts with you. 
£He takes up the rod and goes out. The girls begin 
whispering, then chattering. 

FIRST GIRL 

Sure I know. Every night I'm dreaming of the 
sea and the great towns. Streets and streets of 
houses and every street as crowded as the road 
outside the chapel when the people do be coming 
from Mass. 



110 THE LAND 



FIEST BOY 

I could watch the crowd in the street; I would think 
it better than any sight I ever knew. 

SECOND GIRL 

And the shops and the great houses. 

SECOND BOY 

There's no stir here. There's no fine clothes, nor 
fine manners, nor fine things to be seen. 

THIRD BOY 

There's no money. One could never get a shilling 
together here. In America there's money to have and 
to spend and to send home. 

THIRD GIRL 

Every girl gets married in America. 
l^Ellen comes down. 

ELLEN 

I'm glad you came. I have tea ready for you. I 

can't go to Gilroy's to-night. 

[_Some come to the table and some remain near the door. 

A GIRL (at table, to Ellen) 

They say that a peat fire like that will seem very 
strange to us after America. Bridget wondered at it 
when she came back. "Do civilized people really 
cook at the like of them?" said she. 

A BOY 

It's the little houses with only three rooms in them 
that will seem strange. I'm beginning to wonder 
myself at their thatch and their mud walls. 

ANOTHER GIRL 

Houses in bogs and fields. It was a heart-break trying 
to keep them as we'd like to keep them. 



THE LAND 111 



A GIRL, (at door) 

Ah, but I'll never forget Gortan and the little road 
to Aughnalee. 

ANOTHER GIRL 

I think I'll be lonesome for a long time. I'll be think- 
ing on my brothers and sisters. I nursed and minded 
all the little ones. 

FIRST BOY 

A girl like you, Ellen, is foolish to be staying here. 

SECOND BOY 

She'll be coming in the fall. We'll be glad to see you, 
Ellen. 

ELLEN 

I have no friends in America. 

FIRST GIRL 

I have no friends there, either. But I'll get on. You 
could get on better than any of us, Ellen. 

SECOND GIRL 

She's waiting for her school. It will be a little place 
by the side of a bog. 

THIRD GIRL (going to Ellen) 

There would be little change in that. And isn't it a 
life altogether different from this life that we have 
been longing for? To be doing other work, and to be 
meeting strange people. And instead of bare roads 
and market-towns, to be seeing streets, and crowds, 
and theaters. 

ELLEN {jpassionately) 

O what do you know about streets and theaters? You 
have only heard of them. They are finer than any- 
thing you could say. They are finer than anything 
you could think of, after a story, when you'd be 
young. 



m THE LAND 



A GIRL 

You'll be going after all, Ellen. 

ELLEN 

I won't be going. 

FIRST GIRL 

Well, maybe you'll be down at Gilroy's. We must 

go now. 

\^The girls go to the door. Ellen goes with them. 

ONE OF THE BOYS 

Phil said that an egg was all he could touch while 
he was on the sea. 

SECOND BOY 

God help us, if that was all Phil could take. 

THIRD BOY 

Light your pipes now, and we'll go. 
\^Ellen has parted with the girls. The boys light their 
pipes at fire. They go to door, and shake hands with 
Ellen. The boys go out. 

ELLEN 

Theaters! What do they know of theaters.'' And it's 

their like will be enjoying them. 

[^Sally comes back. She is more hurried than before. 

SALLY 

Ellen! Ellen! I have wonders to tell. Where is 
Cornelius, at all? He's never here when you have 
wonders to tell. 

ELLEN 

What have you to tell? 

SALLY 

Oh, I don't know how I'll get it all out! Matt and 
father had an odious falling out, and it was about 
you. And Matt's going to America; and he's to 



THE LAND 113 



bring you with him. And Cornelius was saying that 
if father found out about yourself and Matt — 

ELLEN 

Sally, Sally, take breath and tell it. 

SALLY 

Matt is going to America, like the others, and he's 
taking you with him. 

ELLEN 

Sally, Sally, is it the truth you're telling? 

SALLY 

It is the truth. Honest as day, it is the truth. 

ELLEN 

And I thought I'd be content with a new house. Now 
we can go away together. I can see what I longed to 
see. I have a chance of knowing what is in me. 
(She takes Sally's hands) It's great news you've 
brought me. No one ever brought me such news 
before. Take this little cross. You won't have a 
chance of getting fond of me after all. (She wears a 
cross at her throat; she breaks the string, and gives it to 
Sally) 

SALLY 

I don't know why I was so fervent to tell you. There's 
the stool before me that myself and Cornelius were 
sitting on, and he saying — (She goes to the door) 
Here's Matt! Now we'll hear all about it. 

ELLEN 

So soon; so soon. (She goes to the mirror. After a 
pause, turning to Sally) Go down the road a bit, 
when he comes in. Sally, you have a simple mind; 
you might be saying a prayer that it will be for the 
best. 



114 THE LAND 



SALLY (going to the door muttering) 

Go down the road a bit! 'Deed and I will not till I 

know the whole ins and outs of it. Sure I'm as much 

concerned in it as herself! "No man sees his house 

afire but watches his rick," he was saying. Ah, 

there's few of them could think of as fine a thing as 

that. 

l^Matt comes in. 

MATT 

Well, Sally, were you home lately? 

SALLY 

I was — leastways as far as the door. Father and 
oul' Martin were discoorsing. 

MATT 

I've given them something to discoorse about. May- 
be you'll be treated better from this day, Sally. 

SALLY 

Matt, I'm sorry. 
[_She goes out. 

MATT (going to Ellen) 

It happened at last, Ellen; the height of the quarrel 
came. 

ELLEN 

It was bound to come. I knew it would come, Matt. 

MATT 

He was a foolish man to put shame on me after all 

1 did for the land. 

ELLEN 

You had too much thought for the land. 

MATT 

I had in troth. The others went when there was less 
to be done. They could not stand him. Even the 
girls stole away. 



THE LAND 115 



ELLEN 

There was the high spirit in the whole of you. 

MATT 

I showed it to him. "Stop," said I; "no more, or I 
fling lands and house and everything aside." 

ELLEN 

You said that. 

MATT 

Ay. "Your other children went for less," said I; 
"do you think there's no blood in me at all?" 

ELLEN 

What happened then.f* 

MATT 

"I'm your last son," I said; "keep your land and 
your twenty years' purchase. I'm with the others; 
and it's poor your land will leave you, and you with- 
out a son to bring down your name. A bit of land, a 
house," said I; "do you think these will keep me 
here?" 

ELLEN 

I knew they could not keep you here, Matt. You 
have broken from them at last; and now the world 
is before us. Think of all that is before us — the 
sea, and the ships, the strange life, and the great 
cities. 

MATT 

Ay — there before us — if we like. 

ELLEN 

Surely we like. 

MATT 

I was always shy of crowds. I'm simple, after all, 
Ellen, and have no thought beyond the land. 



116 THE LAND 



ELLEN 

You said that house and land could not keep you. 
You told him you were going as your brothers went. 

MATT 

And I felt I was going. I frightened him. He'll be 
glad to see me back. It will be long before he treats 
me that way again. 
ELLEN (suddenly) 
Matt! 

MATT 

What is it, Ellen? 

ELLEN 

I don't know — I was upset — thinking of the quarrel 
{putting her hands on his shoulders) My poor Matt. 
It was about me you quarrelled. 

MATT 

Ay, he spoke against you. I couldn't put up with 
that. 

ELLEN 

He does not know your high spirit. He does not 
know your strength. 

MATT 

Ellen, it's no shame for a man to have harsh words 
said to him when it's about a woman like you. 

ELLEN 

Let nothing come between us now. I saw you in the 
winter making drains and ditches, and it wet. It's 
a poor story, the life of a man on the land. 

MATT 

I had too much thought for the land. 

ELLEN 

You had. Have thought for me now. There is no 
one in fair or market but would notice me, I was 



THE LAND 117 



never a favourite. I lived to myself. I did not give 
my love about. You have never offered me any- 
thing. In the song a man offers towns to his sweet- 
heart. You can offer me the sights of great towns, 
and the fine manners, and the fine life. 

MATT 

Ellen! {He draws a little away) It's not me that 
could offer the like of that. I never had anything to 
my hand but a spade. 

ELLEN 

Your brothers — think of them. 

MATT 

They all left some one behind them. I am the last 
of my name. 

ELLEN 

Why should that keep you back? 

MATT 

His name is something to a man. Could you hear of 
your own name melting away without unease. ^^ And 
you are a woman. A man feels it more. 

ELLEN 

I do not understand men. Will you go back to your 
father's house after he shaming you out of it.'* 

MATT 

He'll be glad to see me back. He'll never cast it up 
to me that I went. 

ELLEN 

Matt, your father said words against me. Will you 
go to him and take his hand after that? 

MATT 

It was little he said against you. It was against your 
father he spoke. 



118 THE LAND 



ELLEN (sinking down on a chair, and putting hands before 

her face) 

My God! After all my waiting, you talk like that. 
MATT (going to her) 

Ellen, Ellen, tell me what I can do for you? There's 

land and houses to be had here. Father will let me 

have my own way after this. 
ELLEN (rising, with anger) 

What does it matter to me whether he lets you have 

your own way or not? Do you think I could go into 

a farmer's house? 

MATT 

Ellen! 

ELLEN 

It's a bad hand I'd make of a farmer's house. I'm 
not the sort to be in one. I'm not like Sally. 

MATT (getting angry) 

Don't be talking that way, Ellen Douras. 

ELLEN (with great vehemence) 

I must be talking like this. If you take me, you will 
have to go from your father's house. I always knew 
it. You ought to know it now, Matt Cosgar. 

MATT 

You didn't know it always. And you have let some 
one come between us when you talk like that. 

ELLEN 

I'm not one to be listening to what people say about 
you. Nor do I be talking in the markets about you. 

MATT 

I suppose not. You wouldn't have people think you 
gave any thought to me; I'm not good enough for 
you. The people you know are better. 



THE LAND 119 



ELLEN 

You are foolish to be talking like that. You are 
foolish, I say. 

MATT 

I know I am foolish. Fit only to be working in drains 
and ditches in the winter. That's what you think. 

ELLEN 

Maybe it is. 

MATT 

Ellen Douras ! Ellen Douras ! A farmer's roof will be 
high enough for you some day. 

ELLEN 

May I never see the day. Go back, go back. Make 
it up with your father. Your father will be glad of a 
labourer. 

MATT 

Maybe you won't be glad if I go back; thinking on 
what you've said. 

ELLEN 

I said too much. We don't know each other at all. 
Go back. You have made your choice. 
[^She goes up to room left. 

MATT 

Very well, then. God above, am I to be treated 
everywhere like a heifer strayed into a patch of oats? 
Neither man nor woman will make me put up with 
this any longer. {Going to door) When Ellen Douras 
wants me, she knows the place to send to. (He stands 
at door. There is no sound from room. Going back he 
speaks loudly) I'll be waiting two days or three days 
to hear from Ellen Douras. 

\^There is no sound. Matt goes out. The room door is 
thrown open, and Ellen comes down. 



120 THE LAND 



ELLEN (furiously) 

Two days or three days he'll wait for me. As if I'd 
go into Murtagh Cosgar's house. As if I'd go into 
any farmer's house. As if I'd get married at all, and 
the world before me. Two days or three days you'll 
wait. Maybe it's lonesome, weary years you'll be 
waiting. Matt Cosgar. 

CURTAIN 



ACT III 

Interior of Murtagh Cosgar's. It is towards sunset. 
Murtagh Cosgar is standing before the door looking out. 
Martin Douras is sitting at the fire in an armchair. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

It's getting late, Murtagh Cosgar. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Ay, it's getting late. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

It's time for me to be going home. I should be seeing 
Ellen. {He rises) 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Stay where you are. ( Turning round) We're two old 
men, as you say. We should keep each other's com- 
pany for a bit. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

I should be going home to see Ellen. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

If she's going, you can't stay her. Let you keep here. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

She'll be wondering what happened to me. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Divil a bit it will trouble her. You're going to the 
fair anyway? 

MARTIN DOURAS 

I have no heart to be going into a fair. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

It's myself used to have the great heart. Driving 



122 THE LAND 



in on my own side-car, and looking down on the 
crowd of them. It's twenty years since I took a sup 
of drink. Oh, we'll have drinking to-morrow that 
will soften the oul' skin of you. You'll be singing songs 
about the Trojans to charm every baste in the fair. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

We're both old men, Murtagh Cosgar. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

And is there any reason in your scholarship why oul' 
men should be dry men? Answer me that! 

MARTIN DOURAS 

I won't answer you at all, Murtagh Cosgar. There's 
no use in talking to you. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Put it down on a piece of paper that oul' men should 
have light hearts when their care is gone from them. 
They should be like — 

MARTIN DOURAS 

There's nothing in the world like men with their 
rearing gone from them, and they old. 
[^Sally comes to the door. She enters stealthily. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Ha, here's one of the clutch home. Well, did you see 
that brother of yours? 

SALLY 

I did. He'll be home soon, father. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

What's that you say? Were you talking to him? 
Did he say he'd be home? 

SALLY 

I heard him say it, father. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

God bless you for the news, Sally. 



THE LAND 123 



MURTAGH COSGAB 

How could he go and he the last of them? Sure it 
would be against nature. Where did you see him, 
Sally? 

SALLY 

At Martin Douras's, father. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

It's that Ellen Douras that's putting him up to all 
this. Don't you be said by her, Sally. 

SALLY 

No, father. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

You're a good girl, and if j you haven't wit, you have 
sense. He'll be home soon, did you say? 

SALLY 

He was coming home. He went round the long way, 
I'm thinking. Ellen Douras was vexed with him, 
father. She isn't going either. Matt says, but I'm 
thinking that you might as well try to keep a corn- 
crake in the meadow for a whole winter, as to try to 
keep Ellen Douras in Aughnalee. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Make the place tidy for him to come into. He'll have 
no harsh words from me. {He goes up to the room) 

SALLY 

Father's surely getting ould. 
MARTIN DOURAS (sitting down) 

He's gone up to rest himself, God help him. Sally, 
a stor, I'm that fluttered, I dread going into my own 
house. 

SALLY 

I'll get ready now, and let you have a good supper 
before you go to the fair. 



124 THE LAND 



MARTIN DOURAS 

Sit down near me, and let me hear everything, Sally. 
Was it Matt that told you, or were you talking to 
Ellen herself? 

SALLY 

O, indeed, I had a talk with Ellen, but she won't 
give much of her mind away. It was Matt that was 
telling me. "Indeed she's not going," said he, "and 
a smart young fellow like myself thinking of her. 
Ellen is too full of notions." Here's Matt himself. 
Father won't have a word to say to him. He's getting 
mild as he's getting ould, and maybe it's a fortune 
he'll be leaving to myself. 
l^Matt comes to the door. He enters. 

MATT 

f Where is he? He's not gone to the fair so early? 

SALLY 

He's in the room. 

MATT 

Were you talking to him at all? Were you telling 
him you saw myself? 

SALLY 

I was telling him that you were coming back. 

MATT 

How did he take it? 

SALLY 

Very quiet. God help us all; I think father's losing 
his spirit. 
MATT {going to Martin) 

Well, you see I've come back, Martin. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Ay, you're a good lad. I always said you were a 
good lad. 



THE LAND 125 



MATT 

How did father take it, Martin? 

MARTIN DOUKAS 

Quietly, quietly. You saw Ellen? 

MATT 

Ay, I saw Ellen (gloomily). She shouldn't talk the 
way she talks, Martin. What she said keeps coming 
into my mind, and I'm troubled. God knows I've 
trouble enough on my head. 
MARTIN DOURAS (eagerly) 

What did she say, Matt Cosgar? 

MATT 

It wasn't what she said. She has that school in her 
mind, I know. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

And is there anything to keep her here. Matt Cosgar? 

MATT 

I don't know that she thinks much of me now. We 
had a few words, but there's nothing in the world I 
put above Ellen Douras. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

I should be going to her. 

MATT 

Wait a bit, and I'll be going with you. Wait a bit. 
Let us talk it over. She wouldn't go from you, and 
you old. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

God forgive my age, if it would keep her here. Would 
I have my Ellen drawing turf, or minding a cow, or 
feeding pigs? 

MATT 

I'm fond of her, Martin. She couldn't go, and I so 
fond of her. What am I doing here? I should be 



126 THE LAND 



making it up with her. What good will anything be 
if Ellen Douras goes? {He turns to the door, then 
stops) I came to settle with him. I mustn't be run- 
ning about like a frightened child. 
l^The room door opens, and Murtagh Cosgar is seen. 
Sally has hung a pot over the fire, and is cleaning the 
dishes at the dresser. 
MURTAGH COSGAR (at the roonYi door) 

Sally, it's time to be putting on the meal. If you have 
any cabbage left, put it through the meal. {To Matt) 
You put the thong in the harness? 

MATT 

I did {pause) Well, I've come back to you. 

MURTGAH COSGAR 

You're welcome. We were making ready for the fair. 

MATT 

I'll be going out again before nightfall. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

I'll not be wanting you here, or at the fair. 
MATT {sullenly) 

There's no good talking to me like that. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

You said, "I've come back," and I said, "you're 
welcome." You said, "I'm going out again," and I 
said, "I'll not be wanting you." 

MATT 

Father, have you no feeling for me at all? 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Sure the wild raven on the tree has thought for her 
young. 

MATT 

Ay, but do you feel for me, and I standing here, 
trying to talk to you? 



THE LAND 127 



MURTAGH COSGAR 

You're my son, and so I feel sorry for you; and you 
beginning to know your own foolishness. {He turns 
to Sally) I'm not taking the pigs. Put a fresh bed- 
ding under them to-night. 

SALLY 

I will, father. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Be up early, and let the cows along the road, or they'll 
be breaking into the young meadow. 

SALLY 

I'll do that, too. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Be sure to keep enough fresh milk for the young calf. 

SALLY 

I'll be sure to do it, father. 

\_81ie goes out. Martin takes out his paper, and begins 
to read it again. 
MATT {turning on Murtagh) 

Before I go out again there's something I want settled. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

What is it you want.? 

MATT 

Would you have me go, or would you have me stay? 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Don't be talking of going or staying, and you the last 
of them. 

MATT 

But I will be talking of it. You must treat me dif- 
ferently if you want me to stay. You must treat me 
differently to the way you treat Sally. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

You were always treated differently, Matt. In no 



128 THE LAND 



house that ever I remember was there a boy treated 
as well as you are treated here. 

MATT 

The houses that you remember are different from the 
houses that are now. Will you have me go, or will 
you have me stay? 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

You're very threatening. I'd have you stay. For 
the sake of the name, I'd have you stay. 

MATT 

Let us take hands on it, then. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Wait, we'll see what you want first. 

MATT 

You have no feeling. I'd go out of this house, only 
I want to give you a chance. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Stop. We can have kindness in this. We needn't be 
beating each other down, like men at a fair. 

MATT 

We're not men at a fair. May God keep the kindness 
in our hearts. 
[^Martin rises. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Don't be going, Martin Douras. 

MATT 

Don't be going yet. I'll be with you, when you're 

going. 

\_Martin sits down. 

MURTAGH COSGAR {tO Matt) 

You'll be getting married, I suppose, if you stay? 

MATT 

Maybe I will. 



THE LAND 129 



MURTAGH cosGAR (bitterly) 

In the houses that are now, the young marry where 
they have a mind to. It's their own business, they 
say. 

MATT 

Maybe it is their own business. I'm going to marry 
Ellen Douras, if she'll have me. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Ellen is a good girl, and clever, I'm told. But I would 
not have you deal before you go into the fair. 

MATT 

I'm going to marry Ellen Douras. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Her father is here, and we can settle it now. What 
fortune will you be giving Ellen, Martin.? That £100 
that was saved while you were in Maryborough gaol.? 
\_Martin shakes his head. 

MATT (stubbornly) 

I'm going to marry Ellen Douras, with or without a 
fortune. 

MURTAGH COSGAR (passionatcly) 

Boy» your father built this house. He got these 
lands together. He has a right to see that you 
and your generations are in the way of keeping them 
together. 

MATT 

I'll marry Ellen Douras, with or without a fortune. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Marry her, then. Marry Ellen Douras. 

MATT 

Now, Martin, we mustn't let an hour pass without 
going to her. (He takes Martin's arm, and they go to 
the door) 



130 THE LAND 



MURTAGH COSGAR 

Marry Ellen Douras, I bid you. Break what I have 
built, scatter what I have put together. That is 
what all the young will be doing. 
\^Ellen Douras comes to the door as Matt and Martin 
reach it. 

MATT 

Ellen! 

l^She shrinks back. 

ELLEN 

It's my father I came to speak to. 
MURTAGH COSGAR {going to the door, and drawing the 
holt from the half-door) 

When you come to my house, Ellen Douras, you are 
welcome within. 
[Ellen comes in. 

ELLEN 

It's right that I should speak to you all. Matt Cosgar, 
I am going from here. 

MATT 

Ellen, Ellen, don't be saying that. Don't be thinking 
of the few words between us. It's all over now. 
Father agrees to us marrying. Speak, father, and let 
her hear yourself say it. 

ELLEN 

I can't go into a farmer's house. 

MATT 

You said that out of passion. Don't keep your mind 
on it any longer. 

ELLEN 

It's true, it's true. I can't go into a farmer's house. 
This place is strange to me. 



THE LAND 131 



MATT 

How can you talk like that? I'm always thinking of 
you. 

ELLEN 

I've stayed here long enough. I want my own way; 
I want to know the world. 

MATT 

If you go, how will I be living, day after day? The 
heart will be gone out of me. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

You'll be owning the land, Matt Cosgar. 
MATT (passionately) 

I've worked on the land all my days. Don't talk to 
me about it now. 

l^Ellen goes to Martin. Murtagh goes up to the door, 
and then turns and speaks. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Listen to me. Matt Cosgar; and you listen too, Ellen 
Douras. It's a new house you want maybe. This 
house was built for me and my generations; but I'll 
build a new house for you both. It's hard for a man 
to part with his land before the hour of his death; 
and it's hard for a man to break his lands; but I'll 
break them, and give a share of land to you. 

ELLEN 

You were never friendly to me; but you have the 
high spirit, and you deserve a better daughter than I 
would make. The land and house you oflfer would 
be a drag on me. {She goes to the door) 

MATT 

Ellen, what he offers is nothing, after all; but I care 
for you. Sure you won't go from me hke that? 



132 THE LAND 



ELLEN 

Oh, can't you let me go? I care for you as much as I 
care for any one. But it's my freedom I want. 

MATT 

Then you're going surely? 

ELLEN 

I am. Good-bye. 

[^She goes out, Martin follows her. Matt stands dazed. 
Murtagh closes the door, then goes and takes Matfs 
arm, and brings him down. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Be a man. We offered her everything, and she went. 
There's no knowing what the like of her wants. The 
men will be in soon, and we'll drink to the new owner- 
ship. 

MATT 

Oh, what's the good in talking about that now? If 
Ellen was here, we might be talking about it. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

To-morrow you and me might go together. Ay, the 
bog behind the meadow is well drained by this, and 
we might put the plough over it. There will be a 
fine, deep soil in it, I'm thinking. Don't look that 
way, Matt, my son. 

MATT 

When I meet Ellen Douras again, it's not a farmer's 
house I'll be offering her, nor life in a country place. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

No one could care for you as I care for you. I know 
the blood between us, and I know the thoughts I 
had as I saw each of you grow up. 
[_Mait moves to the door. 



THE LAND 133 



MURTAGH COSGAR 

Where are you going? 

MATT 

To see the boys that are going away. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Wait till the fall and I'll give you money to go and 
come back. Farrell Kavanagh often goes to America. 
You could go with him. 

MATT 

I'll go by myself, unless Ellen Douras comes now. The 
creamery owes me money for the carting, and I'll get 
it. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Then go. Good-bye to you, Matt Cosgar. 

MATT 

Good-bye to you. 

l^He goes out. Murtagh stands, then moves about vaguely 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

The floor swept, the hearth tidied. It's a queer end 
to it all. Twenty years I bid them offer. Twenty 
years, twenty years! 
\^3Iartin comes back. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

The men will be coming back. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

I suppose they will. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

You're a queer fellow, Martin Douras. You went to 
gaol for some meeting. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Ay. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Them was the stirring times. I can't help but think 



134 THE LAND 



of you in gaol, and by yourself. What brings you 
back now? 

MARTIN DOURAS 

Ellen told me to go back. I should say something to 
Matt, I think. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

He went out as you came in. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

I'll go in when the house is quiet. I'll have a few 
prayers to be saying this night. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

I'm going to the fair. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

I won't be going to the fair. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Why won't you be going to the fair? Didn't you ask 
me for a lift? You'll be going with me. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

I won't be going, and don't be overbearing me now, 
Murtagh Cosgar. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

You will be going to the fair, if it was only to be show- 
ing that seemly face of yours. {Going to the door, he 
calls "Sally!" He turiis to Martin Douras) I've 
a daughter still, Martin Douras. 

MARTIN DOURAS 

You have, and I have a son. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

What would you say to a match between them, 
Martin Douras? 

MARTIN DOURAS 

I have nothing to say again it. 



THE LAND 135 



MURTAGH COSGAR 

Then a match it will be. 
[^Sally comes in from yard, 

SALLY 

If you fed that baste on honey, she'd turn on you. 
Cabbage I gave her and got into trouble for it, and 
now she's gone and trampled the bad potatoes till 
they're hardly worth the boiling, I'll put the bush in 
the gap when I'm going out again, father. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Ay. Is that Cornelius Douras that's coming up the 
path? 

SALLY 

O faith it is. I'll get him to give me a hand with the 

trough. 

{Cornelius comes in. 

CORNELIUS 

Well, Murtagh Cosgar, a great and memorial day is 
ended. May you live long to enjoy the fruits of it. 
Twenty years on the first term, and the land is ours 
and our children's. I met the men. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Ours and our children's, ay. We've been making a 
match between yourself and Sally. 

CORNELIUS 

Between me and Sally? 

SALLY 

Between Cornelius and myself? 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

Ay, shake hands on it now. 

CORNELIUS 

And tell me one thing, Murtagh Cosgar. Is it true 
that Matt's going to America, and that Ellen will 



136 THE LAND 



wait for him for a year at the school? I met them 
together, and they told me that. 

MURTAGH COSGAR 

What they say is true, I'm sure. The land is yours 
and your children's. 
SALLY {wiping her hands in her apron) 
O Cornelius. 

CORNELIUS 

Aren't they foolish to be going away like that, father, 
and we at the mouth of the good times? The men 
will be coming in soon, and you might say a few words. 
{Martin shakes his head) Indeed you might, father; 
they'll expect it of you. {Martin shakes his head. 
Murtagh and Sally try to restrain him) "Men of 
Bally killduff," you might say, "stay on the land, 
and you'll be saved body and soul; you'll be saved in 
the man and in the nation. The nation, men of 
Bally killduff, do you ever think of it at all? Do you 
ever think of the Irish nation that is waiting all this 
time to be born?" 

[//e becomes more excited; he is seen to be struggling 
with words. 

END OF PLAY 



The Land was first produced at the Abbey Theater, 
Dublin, in June, 1905, by The Irish National Theater 
Society, under the direction of W. G. Fay, with the 
following cast : — 

MuRTAGH CosGAR W. G. Fay 

Matt Proinsias MacSiubhlaigh 

Sally Sara Allgood 

Martin Douras F. J. Fay 

Cornelius Arthur Sinclair 

Ellen Maire Ni Gharbhaigh 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 



CHARACTERS 

Thomas Muskerry The Master of Garrisowen 

Workhouse 

Mrs. Crilly His Daughter 

Crofton Crilly His Son-in-law 

Albert Crilly His Grandson 

Anna Crilly His Granddaughter 

James Scollard Thomas Muskerry 's Successor 

Felix Tournour The Porter at Workhouse 

Lodge 

Myles Gorman A Bhnd Piper 

Christy Clarke A Boy reared in the Work- 
house 

Shanley 1 

Mickie Cripes y Paupers in Workhouse 

An Old Man J 



Scene: Garrisowen, a town in the Irish Midlands. 



ACT FIRST 

The Master*s office in Garrisowen Workhouse. It is 
partly an office, partly a living room. To the right is a 
door opening on corridor, and in the back, left, a door 
leading to the Master's apartments. There is an iron 
stove down from hack and towards right, and a big grand- 
father's clock back towards door of apartments. A basket 
arm chair down from stove, and a wooden chair beside it. 
There is a desk against wall, left, and an office stool before 
it. Down from this desk a table on which is a closed desk. 
On table are books, papers, and files. On a wooden chair 
beside the arm chair is a heap of neiospapcrs and periodi- 
cals. There is a rack beside corridor door, and on rack a 
shaivl, an old coat, a hat, and a bunch of big keys. In the 
corner, right, is a little cabinet, and on it a small mirror. 
Above door of apartments a picture of Daniel O'Connell. 
The grandfather' s clock is ticking audibly. It is 8.^5 
p.m. The gas over desk is lighted. 

Christy Clarke, a youth of about seventeen, is seated in 
the armchair reading a periodical. His clothes are thread- 
bare, but brushed and clean. He looks studious, and has 
intellectual possibilities. The clock ticks on, the boy reads, 
but with little attention. At the corridor door there is a 
knocking. Christy Clarke turns slightly. The door opens, 
and a tall man in the ugly dress of a pauper is seen. The 
man is Felix Tournour. He carries in a bucket of coal. 
He performs this action like one who has acquired the 
habit of work under an overseer. He is an ugly figure in 
his pauper dress. His scanty beard is coal black. He has 



144 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

a wide mouth and discoloured teeth. His forehead is 
narrow and bony. He is about forty-five. 

TOURNOUR (in a harsh voice, after looking around) 

Is he not back yet? 
CHRISTY {without stirring) 

Is who not back yet? 

TOURNOUR 

The master I'm talking about. I don't know where 
he does be going these evenings. 
\_He shovels coal into the stove. 

CHRISTY 

And what is it to you where he does be going? 

TOURNOUR 

Don't talk to me like that, young fellow. You're 
poorhouse rearing, even though you are a pet. Will 
he be sitting up here to-night, do you know? 

CHRISTY 

What's that to you whether he will or not? 

TOURNOUR 

If he's sitting up late he'll want more coal to his fire. 

CHRISTY 

Well, the abstracts will have to be finished to-night. 

TOURNOUR 

Then he will be staying up. He goes out for a walk in 
the evenings now, and I don't know where he does be 
going. 

CHRISTY 

He goes out for a walk in the country. (Tournour 
makes a leer of contempt) Do you never go for a walk 
in the country, Felix Tournour? 

TOURNOUR 

They used to take me out for walks when I was a 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 145 

little fellow, but they never got me out into the 
country since. 

CHRISTY 

I suppose, now that you're in the porter's lodge, you 
watch every one that goes up and down the road? 

TOURNOUR 

It gratifies me to do so — would you believe that 
now? 

CHRISTY 

You know a lot, Felix Tournour. 

TOURNOUR 

We're told to advance in knowledge, young fellow. 
How long is Tom Muskerry the Master of Garrisowen 
Workhouse? 

CHRISTY 

Thirty years this spring. 

TOURNOUR 

Twenty-nine years. 

CHRISTY 

He's here thirty years according to the books. 

TOURNOUR 

Twenty-nine years. 

CHRISTY 

Thirty years. 

TOURNOUR 

Twenty-nine years. I was born in the workhouse, 
and I mind when the Master came in to it. Whist 
now, here he is, and time for him. 
[^He falls into an officious manner. He closes up the 
stove and puts bucket away. Then he goes over to desk, 
and, with his foot on the rung of the office stool, he turns 
the gas on fall. Christy Clarke gets out of armchair, 
and begins to arrange the periodicals that are on wooden 



146 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

chair. The corridor door opens. The man ivho appears 
is not the Master, however. He is the blind piper, Myles 
Gorman, loho is dressed in the pauper garb. Myles 
Gorman is a Gael of the West of Ireland, with a face 
full of intellectual vigour. He is about sixty, and carries 
himself with energy. His face is pale and he has a 
fringe of a white beard. The eye-balls in his head are 
contracted, but it is evident he has some vestiges of sight. 
Before the others are aware who he is, he has advanced 
into the room. He stands there now turning the atten- 
tive face of the blind. 

GORMAN 

Mister Muskerry! Are you there, Mister Muskerry? 

TOURNOUR 

What do you want, my oul' fellow? 
GORMAN (with a puzzled look) 

Well, now, I've a favour to ask of your honour. 

TOURNOUR 

Be off out of this to your ward. 

GORMAN 

Is that Mister Muskerry? 

CHRISTY 

Mister Muskerry isn't here. 

GORMAN 

And who am I talking to? 

CHRISTY 

You are talking to Felix Tournour. 

GORMAN 

Felix Tournour! Ay, ay. Good night, Felix Tour- 
nour. When will the Master be back? 
TOURNOUR {coming to him) 

Not till you're out of this, and back in your ward. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 147 

GORMAN 

Wasn't there a boy speaking to me? 

CHRISTY 

Yes (speaking as if to a deaf man) The Master will 
be going the rounds in a while, and you can speak 
to him in the ward. 

GORMAN 

I've a favour to ask the Master, and I don't want to 
ask it before the others. {To Christy) Will the 
Master be here soon, a vick vig? ^ 
TOURNOUR (taking him by the shoulders) 
Here, now, come on, this is your way out. 
^He turns Gorman to the door. As he is putting him 
out Thomas Muskerry enters 

TOURNOUR 

This oul' fellow came into the office, and I was lead- 
ing him back into his ward. 

MUSKERRY 

Leave the man alone. 

\_Tournour retreats to the stove and takes up the bucket; 
after a look behind he goes out and closes the corridor 
door. Christy Clarke takes the periodicals over to table 
and sits down. Myles Gorman has been eager and 
attentive. Thomas Muskerry stands with his back to the 
stove. He is over sixty. He is a large man, fleshy in 
face and figure, sanguine and benevolent in disposition. 
He has the looks and movements of one in authority. His 
hair is white and long; his silver beard is trimmed. His 
clothes are loosely fitting. He wears no overcoat, but 
has a white knitted muffler round his neck. He has 
on a black, broad-brimmed hat, and carries a walking- 
stick. 

^ A mhic bhig, my little son. 



148 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

MUSKERRY 

Well, my good man? 

GORMAN 

I'm here to ask a favour from you. Master, 

MUSKERRY 

You should proffer your request when I'm in the 
ward. However, I'm ready to give you my attention. 

GORMAN 

I'm a blinded man, Master, and when you're in the 
ward I can't get you by yourself conveniently. I 
can't come up to you like the other oul' men and 
speak to you private like. 

MUSKERRY 

Well, now, what can I do for you? 
GORMAN {eagerly) 

They tell me that to-morrow's the market-day, and I 
thought that you might give me a pass, and let me 
go out about the town. 

MUSKERRY 

We'll consider it, Gorman. 

GORMAN 

Master, let me out in the town on the market-day. 

MUSKERRY 

We couldn't let you out to play your pipes through 
the town. 

GORMAN 

I'm not thinking of the music at all, Master, but to 
be out in the day and to feel the throng moving about, 
and to be talking to the men that do be on the roads. 

MUSKERRY 

We'll consider it, Gorman. {He takes off muffler, and 
puts it on back of armchair) 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 149 

GORMAN 

Well, I'm very much obliged to your honour. Good 
night to you, Master. {He passes Muskerry and goes 
towards the door. Muskerry has been regarding him) 

MUSKERKY 

Tell me this, Gorman, were you always on the 
roads? 

GORMAN 

I was driving cattle, and I was dealing in horses. 
Then I took up with an oul' man, and he taught me 
the pipes. I'm playing the pipes ever since, and that's 
thirty years ago. Well, the eyes began to wither up 
on me, and now I've only a stim of sight. I'm a 
blinded man from this out, Master. 

MUSKERRY 

And what will you do.f* 

GORMAN 

Oh, sure the roads of Ireland are before me when I 
leave this; I'll be playing my bit of music. (He 
moves to the door) 

MUSKERRY 

Tell me; have you any family yourself. ^^ 

GORMAN 

Ne'er a chick nor child belonging to me. Ne'er a 
woman lay by me. I w^ent the road by myself. Will 
you think of what I asked you, Master? 

MUSKERRY 

I'll consider it. 

GORMAN 

Good night to your honour. Remember my name. 
Master — Gorman, Myles Gorman. 
\_Muskerry stands looking after Gorman. 



150 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

MUSKERRY 

Now, Christy Clarke, I consider that the man gone 
out is a very exceptional man. 

CHRISTY 

Is it Myles Gorman? 

MUSKERRY 

Yes. I'd even say that, considering his station in 
life, Myles Gorman is a very superior man. 

CHRISTY 

They say he's not a good musician. 

MUSKERRY 

And maybe he's not. I consider, however, that 
there's great intelligence in his face. He stands 
before you, and you feel that he has the life of a young 
colt, and then you're bound to think that, in spite of 
the fact that he's blind and a wanderer, the man 
has not wasted his life. {Muskerry settles himself in 
the armchair) 

CHRISTY 

Will you give leave for to-morrow? 

MUSKERRY 

No, Christy, I will not. 

CHRISTY 

Why not. Mister Muskerry? 

MUSKERRY 

That man would break bounds and stay away. 

CHRISTY 

Do you think he would? 

MUSKERRY 

He'd fly off, like the woodquest flying away from the 
tame pigeons. 

CHRISTY 

He and his brother had a farm between them. His 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 151 

brother was married, and one day the brother told 
Myles to go to Dublin to see a comrade of his who 
was sick. Myles was home in a week, and when he 
came back he found that his brother had sold the 
place and was gone out of the country. 

MUSKERRY 

His brother did wrong, but he didn't do so much wrong 
to Myles Gorman. 

CHRISTY 

How is that, Mister Muskerry? 

MUSKERRY 

He sent Myles Gorman to his own life. He's a man 
who went his own way always; a man who never 
had any family nor any affairs; a man far different 
from me, Christy Clarke. I was always in the middle 
of affairs. Then, too, I busied myself about other 
people. It was for the best, I think; but that's 
finished. On the desk under your hand is a letter, 
and I want you to bring it to me. 
CHRISTY {going through papers idly) 

"I am much obliged for your favour — " 

MUSKERRY 

That's not it. 
CHRISTY (reading another letter) 
"I am about to add to the obligations under which I 
stand to you, by recommending to your notice my 
grandson, Albert Crilly — " 

MUSKERRY 

That's the letter. It's the last of its kind. Bring it 
to me. (Christy Clarke brings over the letter) There 
comes a turn in the blood and a turn in the mind, 
Christy. This while back I've been going out to the 
country instead of into the town, and coming back 



152 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

here in the evenings I've seen the workhouse with 
the big wall around it, and the big gate going into it, 
and I've said to myself that Thomas Muskerry ought 
to be as secure and contented here as if he was in his 
own castle. 

CHRISTY 

And so you ought, Mister Muskerry. 

MUSKERRY 

Look round at the office, Christy. I've made it as 
fit for me as the nest for the wren. I'll spend a few 
more years here, and then I'll go out on pension. I 
won't live in the town. I've seen a place in the country 
I'd like, and the people will be leaving it in a year or 
two. 

CHRISTY 

Where is it, Mister Muskerry.? 

MUSKERRY 

I'll say no more about it now, but it's not far from 
this, and its near the place where I was reared. 

CHRISTY 

And so you'll go back to your own place. ^^ 

MUSKERRY 

As Oliver Goldsmith my fellow county man, and I 
might almost say, my fellow parishioner, says — 
What's this the lines are about the hare, Christy? 

CHRISTY 

"And like the Hare whom Hounds and Horns pursue 
Pants to the place from whence at first he flew." 

MUSKERRY 

Aye. 

"And like the Hare whom Hounds and Horns pur- 
sue" — {The clock strikes nine) 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 153 

CHRISTY 

You weren't on the rounds yet? 
MUSKERRY (startled) 

Would you believe it, now, it was nearly passing my 
mind to go on the rounds? {He rises, putting the 
letter in his pocket) Where's that fellow, Albert 
Crilly? He was to have been in here to give me a 
hand with the abstracts. Christy Clarke, go down 
to Miss Coghlan's and get me two novelettes. Bring 
me up two nice love stories, and be here when I come 
back. 

[^Christy Clarke takes his cap off rack and goes out. 
Thomas Muskerry puts on his scarf, goes to the rack 
and takes down the bunch of keys. As he is going out 
Felix Tou'rnour enters with a bucket of coal. He carries 
it over to the stove. 

MUSKERRY 

Now, Tournour, sweep up this place. 

\^Thomas Muskerry goes out by corridor door. Felix 
Tournour takes brush from under desk, left, and begins 
to sweep in the direction of corridor door. 

TOURNOUR 

Sweeping, sweeping! I'll run out of the house some 
day on account of the work I've to do for Master 
Thomas Muskerry. {He leans on his brush in front of 
stove) I know why you're going for walks in the 
country, my oul' cod. There's them in town that 
you've got enough of. You don't want to go bail 
for Madam Daughter, nor for Count Crofton Crilly, 
your son-in-law, nor for the Masters and Mistresses; 
all right, my oul' cod-fish. That I may see them lay- 
ing you out on the flags of Hell. {He puts the brush 
standing upright, and speaks to it) 



154 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

"The Devil went out for a ramble at night, 
Through Garrisowen Union to see every sight. 
The oul' men were dreaming of meat to come near 

them, 
And the Devil cocked ears at the words for to hear 

them. 
'Twice a year we get meat,' said the toothless oul' 

men, 
'Oh, Lord send the meat won't be too tough again.' 
To clear away dishes Mick Fogarty goes. 
May the Devil burn the nails off his toes. 
Deep dreaming that night of fast days before, 
Sagging the walls with the pull of his snore. 
In his chamber above Thomas Muskerry lay snug. 
When the Devil this summons roared in his lug — 
[^The door of the Master's apartments is opened and 
Albert Crilly enters. Albert Crilly is a young many 
who might be a bank clerk or a medical student. He is 
something of a dude, but has a certain insight and wit. 
ALBERT (lighting a cigarette) 

Is the grandparent here, Tournour? 

TOURNOUR 

He's gone on the rounds. Mister Albert. 

ALBERT 

What time was he up this morning? 

TOURNOUR 

He was late enough. He wasn't up in time to come 
to Mass with us. 

ALBERT 

The old man will get into trouble. 

TOURNOUR 

If the nuns hear about it. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 155 

ALBERT 

He'll have to give the whole thing up soon. 

TOURNOUR 

He's well off that can get somebody else to do the 
work for him. {He continues to sweep towards corridor) 

ALBERT 

Tournour, you're a damned clever fellow. I heard a 
piece of yours yesterday that I thought was damned 
good. 

TOURNOUR 

Was it a rhyme? 

ALBERT 

It was something called "The Devil's Rambles." 
TOURNOUR {taking a step towards him) Don't let the 
boss hear, and I'll tell it to you, Mr. Albert. {He 
holds the brush in his hands and is about to begin the 
recitation when Crqfton Crilly enters from the Master's 
apartments. Crqfton Crilly has a presentable appear- 
ance. He is big and well made, has a fair beard and 
blue eyes. A pipe is always in his mouth. He is a 
loiterer, a talker, a listener) 

CRILLY 

Are you going to finish the abstracts to-night, Albert? 

ALBERT 

I believe I am. Go on with "The Devil's Rambles," 
Tournour. 

CRILLY 

I heard it in Keegan's. It's damn good. 

TOURNOUR 

I don't like saying it before Mister Crilly. 
CRILLY {with easy contempt) 

Go on with it, man; I'll leave a pint in Keegan's for 
you. 



156 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

TOURNOUK 

Well, you mightn't like it. 

CRILLY 

Have done talking and go on with it. 

TOURNOUR {reciting) — 

"In his chamber above — a - a 'person lay snug. 
When the Devil this summons roared in his lug — 
*Get up,' said the Devil, 'and swear you'll be true. 
And the oath of allegiance I'll tender anew. 
You'll have pork, veal, and lamb, mutton-chops, fowl 

and fish. 
Cabbage and carrots and leeks as you wish. 
No fast days to you will make visitation. 
For your sake the town will have dispensation. 
Long days you will have, without envy or strife. 
And when you depart you'll find the same life, 
And in the next world you'll have your will and your 

sway. 
With a Poorhouse to govern all your own way, 
And I'll promise you this; to keep up your state, 
You'll have Felix Tournour to watch at the gate. ' " 

CRILLY 

That's damn good. I must get a copy of the whole of 
it to show at Keegan's. 

\^Tournour has swept as Jar as the corridor door. He 
opens it and sweeps down the passage. He goes out 
and closes door. 

CRILLY 

That's a damn clever fellow. {He becomes anxious, 
as with a troubled recollection. Fie goes to the little 
cabinet, opens it, and takes out a bottle of whisky and a 
glass. He pours some whisky into the glass, and re- 
mains looking at himself in the mirror. He smooths his 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 157 

beard. He goes to the arm chair with the glass of whisky, 
the anxious expression still on his face) This is a 
cursed town. (He drinks) 

ALBERT 

Every town in Ireland is a cursed town. 

CRILLY 

But this is an extraordinarily cursed town. Every- 
body's in debt to everybody else. I don't know what's 
to be done. Now, imagine that fellow, James Covey, 
failing in business and getting clear out of the town. 

ALBERT 

Covey seems to have done it well. 

CRILLY 

God knows how many he has stuck. 

ALBERT 

Well, he didn't stick the Crillys for anything. 

CRILLY 

Albert, you don't know how these financial things 
work out. Do you think would his brother settle.? 

ALBERT 

Settle with whom? 

CRILLY 

Well . . . with any of the . . . any of the people 
that have ... I don't know. It's a cursed tovvu. 
If I had joined the police at your age, I'd have a 
pension by this, and I mightn't care for any of 
them. 

ALBERT 

I wish I had a job and I'd wait on the pension. 

CRILLY 

Oh, you'll be all right. The grandfather is seeing 
about your job. 



158 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

ALBERT 

If the grandparent gets me that job I'll want two 
new suits at least. 

CRILLY 

Ton my soul, Albert, I don't know what's to be 
done. (His mind wanders off) I suppose the ab- 
stracts have to go out in the morning. 

ALBERT 

They have. And damn all the old man has done to 
them. 

CRILLY 

The Guardians hear that he's late in the mornings, 
Albert, and some of them are beginning to question 
his fitness to check the stores. 

ALBERT 

^ The old man ought to resign. 

CRILLY 

I suppose he ought. I'm not wishing for his resignation 
myself, Albert. You know your mother regards it as 
a settled thing that he should come and live with us. 

ALBERT 

The mother and Anna are preparing for the event. 

CRILLY 

How's that, Albert? 

ALBERT 

Mother has James ScoUard in her eye for the new 
Master. 

CRILLY 

Right enough! Scollard would get it, too, and then 
he would marry Anna. 

ALBERT 

That's the arrangement, I expect. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 159 

CRILLY 

It mightn't be bad. Scollard mightn't want Nancy's 
money under that arrangement. Still I don't like 
the idea of the old man living in the house. 

ALBERT 

The mother would never think of letting him take 
himself and his pension anywhere else. 

CRILLY 

I don't think she would. 

ALBERT 

I wouldn't be surprised if he did go somewhere else. 
I hear he often goes up to that cottage in Stradrina. 

CRILLY 

What cottage, Albert? 

ALBERT 

Briar Cottage. I hear he sits down there, and talks 
of coming to live in the place. 
CRILLY (warningly) 

Albert, don't clap hands behind the bird. Take my 
word, and say nothing about it. 

ALBERT 

All right. 

CRILLY 

We'd have no comfort in the house if your mother's 
mind was distracted. 

[3/rs. Crilly enters from corridor. She is a woman of 
forty, dressed in a tailor-made costume. She has search- 
ing eyes. There is something of hysteria about her 
mouth. She has been good-looking. 

CRILLY 

Good night, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Are you finishing the abstracts, Albert? 



160 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

ALBERT 

I'm working at them. It's a good job we didn't leave 
the old man much latitude for making mistakes. 
MRS. CRiLLY {closing door) 
He'll have to resign. 

CRILLY 

Good God, Marianne. {He rises) 

MRS. CRILLY 

Well. Let him be sent away without a pension. Of 
course, he can live with us the rest of his life and give 
us nothing for keeping him. 

CRILLY 

I don't know what's in your mind at all, Marianne. 
{He crosses over to the cabinet, opens it, and fills out 
another glass of whisky) 

ALBERT 

Let the old man do what suits himself. 
CRILLY {coming back to stove) 

Do, Marianne. Let him do what suits himself. For 
the present. 

MRS. CRILLY 

For pity's sake put down that glass and listen to 
what I have to say. 

CRILLY 

What's the matter, Marianne ? 

MRS. CRILLY 

James Scollard came to me to-day, and he told me 
about the things that are noticed. . . . The nuns 
notice them, the Guardians notice them. He misses 
Mass. He is late on his rounds. He can't check the 
stores that are coming into the house. He may get 
himself into such trouble that he'll be dismissed with 
only an apology for a pension, or with no pension at all. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 161 

CRILLY 

I don't know what's to be done. 

MRS. CRILLY 

If he could be got to resign now James Scollard would 
have a good chance of becoming Workhouse Master. 
He would marry Anna, and we would still have some 
hand in the affairs of the House. 

CRILLY 

Yes, yes. I think that Scollard could make a place 
for himself. 

ALBERT 

The old man won't be anxious to retire. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Why shouldn't he retire when his time is up? 

ALBERT 

Well, here he is what's called a potentate. He won't 
care to come down and live over Crilly's shop. 

MRS. CRILLY 

And where else would he live, in the name of God? 

ALBERT 

He won't want to live with our crowd. 

MRS. CRILLY 

What crowd? The boys can be sent to school, you'll 
be on your situation, and Anna will be away. (She 
seats herself in the armchair) I don't know what 
Albert means when he says that the Master would 
not be content to live with us. It was always settled 
that he would come to us when his service was over. 
[^Albert, who has been going over the booJcs, has met 
something that surprises him. He draws Crilly to the 
desk. The two go over the papers, puzzled and excited. 
Anna Crilly enters from corridor. She is a handsome 
girl of about nineteen or twenty, with a rich complexion. 



162 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

dark hair and eyes. She is well dressed, and wears a 
cap of dark fur. She stands at the stove, behind her 
mother, holding her hands over the stove. Mrs. Crilly 
watches the pair at the desk. 

MRS. CRILLY 

We can't think of allowing a pension of fifty pounds a 
year to go out of our house. Where will we get money 
to send the boys to school.'^ 

ANNA 

Mother. Grandfather is going to live away from us. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Why do you repeat what Albert says? 

ANNA 

I didn't hear Albert say anything. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Then, what are you talking about.'* 

ANNA 

Grandfather goes to Martin's cottage nearly every 
evening, and stays there for hours. They'll be leaving 
the place in a year or two, and Grandfather was 
saying that he would take the cottage when he 
retired from the Workhouse. 

MRS. CRILLY 

When did you hear this? 

ANNA 

This evening. Delia Martin told me. 

MRS. CRILLY 

And that's the reason why he has kept away from us. 
He goes to strangers, and leaves us in black ignorance 
of his thought. 
[^Crilly and Albert are busy at desk. 

CRILLY 

Well, damn it all — 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 163 

ALBERT 

Here's the voucher. 

CRILLY 

God! I don't know what's to be done. 

ALBERT 

It's a matter of fifty tons. 

l^Albert turns round deliberately, leaving his father going 
through the papers in desperate eagerness. Albert takes 
a cigarette from behind his ear, takes a match-box from 
his waistcoat pocket, and strikes a light. He goes towards 
door of apartments. Mrs. Crilly rises. 
ALBERT {his hand on the handle of door) 
Well so-long. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Where are you going? 

ALBERT 

I'm leaving you to talk it over with the old man. 
\_Mrs. Crilly looks from Albert to Crilly. 

CRILLY 

The Master has let himself in for something serious, 
Marianne. 

ALBERT 

It's a matter of fifty pounds. The old man has let 
the Guardians pay for a hundred tons of coal when 
only fifty were delivered. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Is that so, Crofton? 

CRILLY 

It looks like it, Marianne. 

ALBERT 

There were fifty tons of coal already in stores, but 
the Governor didn't take them into account. That 
cute boy, James Covey, delivered fifty tons and 



164 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

charged for the hundred. The old man passed on the 
certificate, and the Guardians paid Covey. They 
helped him to his passage to America. {He opens 
door and goes through) 

MRS. CRILLY 

They will dismiss him — dismiss him without a 
pension. 

ANNA 

Mother. If he gets the pension first, could they take 
it back from him? 

CRILLY 

No. But they could make him pay back the fifty 
pounds in instalments. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Fifty pounds! We can't afford to lose fifty pounds. 

ANNA 

Who would find out about the coal, father? 

CRILLY 

The Guardians who take stock. 

ANNA 

And how would they know at this time whether 
there was a hundred or a hundred and fifty tons 
there at first? 

CRILLY 

The business men amongst them would know. How- 
ever, there won't be an inspection for some time. 

ANNA 

Suppose grandfather had got his pension and had 
left the Workhouse, who would know about the coal? 

CRILLY 

The new Workhouse Master. 

MRS. CRILLY 

The new Workhouse Master — 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 165 

CHILLY 

Marianne — , 

MRS. CRILLY 

Well? 

CRILLY 

I think I'll stay here and advise the old man. 

MRS. CRILLY 

No. Go away. 
CRILLY {at door of apartments) 

After all, I'm one of the Guardians, and something 
might be done. 

MRS. CRILLY 

You can do nothing. We can do nothing for him. 
Let him go to the strangers. 
\Xlrilly goes out. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Anna! 

ANNA 

Yes, mother. 

MRS. CRILLY 

The Martins are not giving up their house for a year 
or two? 

ANNA 

No, mother. 

MRS. CRILLY 

If he resigns now his pension will be safe. There is 
nothing else against him. 

ANNA 

But some one will find out the difference in the coal. 

MRS. CRILLY 

It's the new Workhouse Master who will know that. 

ANNA {hardening) 

But he could not pass such a thing, mother. 



166 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

MRS. CRiLLY {abandoning a position) 

Well, after your grandfather gets his pension we 
could make some arrangement with the Guardians. 

ANNA 

Yes, mother. Hasn't grandfather a hundred pounds 
invested in the shop? 

MRS. CRILLY 

It's not a hundred pounds. Besides, it's not an invest- 
ment. 

ANNA {with a certain resolution in her rich voice) 
Mother. Is my money safe? 

MRS. CRILLY 

We could give you the eighty pounds, Anna, but after 
that we would need all the help we could get from you. 

ANNA 

Yes, mother. 
MRS. CRILLY {again taking up a position) 

But if we help James Scollard to the place. 
ANNA {with determination) 

Whether Mr. Scollard gets the place or does not 

get the place, I'll want my fortune, mother. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Very well, Anna. If we could get him to come over. 
. . . {She sits in arm chair) There's a lamb in Gin- 
nell's field; you might call in to-morrow and ask 
them to prepare it for us. 

ANNA 

Then grandfather is coming to dinner on Sunday? 

MRS. CRILLY 

We must get him to come. 

[^Some one is coming up the passage. Annans hand is 
on handle of door. She holds it open. Thomas 3Ius- 
Jcerry stands there. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 167 

MUSKERRY (pleased to see her) 
Well, Nancy! 

ANNA 

Good night, grandpapa. (He regards her with fondness) 

MRS. CRILLY 

Good night, father. 

MUSKERRY 

This Nancy girl is looking remarkably well. (He 
turns to Mrs. Crilly) Well, ma'am, and how are 
you.f* I've written that letter for that rascally Albert. 
\_He leaves his stick on table and goes to desk. Mrs, 
Crilly watches him. Anna comes to her. Muskerry 
addresses an envelope with some labour. Mrs. Crilly 
notices a tress of Anna''s hair falling down. Anna 
kneels down beside her. She takes off Anna's cap, 
settles up the hair, and puts the cap on again. Having 
addressed the envelope, Muskerry holds up a piece of 
wax to the gas. He seals the letter, then holds it out. 

MUSKERRY 

Here's the letter now, and maybe it's the last thing 
I can do for any of ye. 

MRS. CRILLY 

You are very good. 
[^Muskerry goes to them. 

MUSKERRY 

In season and out of season I've put myself at your 
service. I can do no more for ye. 
[^She takes the letter from him. His resentment is 
breaking down. He sits on chair beside armchair. He 
speaks in a reconciling tone. 

MUSKERRY 

You're looking well, Marianne. 



168 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

MRS. CRILLY 

I'm beginning to be well again. 

MUSKERRY 

And the infant? What age is he now? 

MRS. CRILLY 

Little Joseph is ten months old. 

MUSKERRY 

I dreamt of him last night. I thought Joseph became 
a bishop. He ought to be reared for the Church, 
Marianne. Well, well, I've nothing more to do with 
that. {He settles himself in the armchair) Did 
Christy Clarke bring in the papers? 

ANNA 

Christy Clarke hasn't been here at all, grandpapa. 

MUSKERRY 

Stand here till I look at you Nancy. {Anna comes left 
of stove) I w^ouldn't be surprised if you were the 
best-looking girl in the town, Nancy. 

ANNA {without any coquettishness) 

Anna Crilly is not going into competition with the 
others. {She wraps the muffler round him, then kisses 
him) Good night, grandpapa. {She goes out by 
corridor door) 

MRS. CRILLY 

Thank you for the letter for Albert. 

MUSKERRY 

I think, Marianne, it's the last thing I can do for 
you or yours. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Well, we can't tell a bad story of you, and things are 
well with us. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 1G9 

MUSKERRY 

I'm glad to hear that. I was thinking of going to see 
you next week. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Come to dinner on Sunday. We are having a lamb. 

MUSKERRY 

What sort is the lamb? 

MRS. CRILLY 

Oh, a very young lamb. Anna will make the dressing 
for you. 

MUSKERRY 

I'll send round a bottle of wine. Perhaps we'll be 
in the way of celebrating something for Albert. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Nancy was saying that you might like to stay a few 
days with us. 

MUSKERRY 

Stay a few days! How could I do that, ma'am? 

MRS. CRILLY 

You could get somebody to look after the House. 
James Scollard would do it, and you could stay out 
for a few days. 

MUSKERRY 

Well, indeed, I'll do no such thing. What put it 
into your head to ask me this? 

MRS. CRILLY 

Nancy said — 

MUSKERRY 

Let the girl speak for herself. What's in your mind, 
woman? 

MRS. CRILLY 

Well, you're not looking well. 



170 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

MUSKERRY 

I'm as well as ever I was. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Others do not think so. 

MUSKERRY 

I suppose you heard I was late a few mornings. No 
matter for that. I'm as well as ever I was. No more 
talk about it; I'm going on with the work. {He 

rises and goes over to desk) 

MRS. CRILLY 

I'm sorry to say that no one else thinks as well of 
you as you do yourself. 

MUSKERRY 

Well, I'll hear no more about it, and that's enough 
about it. Why isn't Albert Crilly here? 

MRS. CRILLY 

Well, he was here, and he is coming back. 

MUSKERRY 

I'll want him. (He takes up a card left on the desk. 
He turns round and reads — "You have let the Guard- 
ians pay for a hundred tons. James Covey delivered 
only fifty tons of coal." Who left this here? 

MRS. CRILLY 

I suppose Albert left it for you. 

MUSKERRY 

The impudent rascal. How dare he address himself 
like that to me? (He throws card on table) 

MRS. CRILLY 

Perhaps he found something out in the books. 

MUSKERRY 

No matter whether he did or not, he'll have to have 
respect when he addresses me. Anyway it's a lie — 
a damn infernal lie. I was in the stores the other day. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 171 

and there was eighty tons of coal still there. Cer- 
tainly twenty tons had been taken out of it. The 
Provision Check Account will show. (He takes up a 
book and turns round. He goes back some pages. He 
lets the book fall. He stands there helpless) I suppose 
you all are right in your judgment of me. I'm at my 
failing time. I'll have to leave this without pension 
or prospect. They'll send me away. 

MRS. CRILLY 

They had nothing against you before this. 

MUSKERRY 

I was spoken of as the pattern for the officials of 
Ireland. 

MRS. CRILLY 

If you resigned now — 

MUSKERRY 

Before this comes out. {He looks for help) Marianne, 
it would be like the blow to the struck ox if I lost my 
pension. 

MRS. CRILLY 

If you managed to get the pension you could pay the 
Guardians back in a lump sum. 

MUSKERRY 

If I resigned now, where would I go to? 

MRS. CRILLY 

It was always understood that you would stay with 
us. 

MUSKERRY 

No, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLY 

You'll have the place to yourself. The boys will be 
going to school, and Albert will be away, too. Anna 
and myself will look after you. 



172 THOINIAS IVIUSKERRY 

MUSKERRY 

I could stay for a while. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Oh, well, if you have a better place to go — 

MUSKERRY 

Remember what I said, Marianne. I've worked for 
you and yours, in season and out of season. There 
should be no more claims on me. 

MRS. CRILLY 

There are no more claims on you. 

MUSKERRY 

I'm willing to leave in the shop what I put into the 
shop. Let Anna know that it will come to her from 
me. I'll write to the Guardians to-night and I'll 
send in my resignation. I venture to think that 
they'll know their loss. 

\^Mrs. Crilly goes out quietly by corridor door. 
MUSKERRY (by Mmself) 

And I had made this place as fit for me as the nest 
for the wren. Wasn't he glad to write that card, the 
impudent rascal, with his tongue in his cheek? I'll 
consider it again. I won't leave this place till it fits 
myself to leave it. 
^Christy Clarke enters by corridor door with papers. 

MUSKERRY 

They want me to resign from this place, Christy. 

CHRISTY 

You're thirty years here! Aren't you, Mister Mus- 
kerry? 

MUSKERRY 

Thirty years, thirty years. Ay, Christy, thirty years; 
it's a long time. And I'm at my failing time. Per- 
haps I'm not able to do any more. Day after day 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 173 

there would be troubles here, and I wouldn't be able 
to face them. And in the end I might lose my posi- 
tion. I'm going to write out my resignation. {He 
goes to the desk and writes. Christy is at table. Mus- 
kerry turns round after writing) 

MUSKERRY 

No one that comes here can have the same heart 
for the poor that I had. I was earning in the year of 
the famine. I saw able men struggling to get the 
work that would bring them a handful of Indian 
meal. And I saw the little children waiting on the 
roads for relief. (He turns back and goes on with letter. 
Suddenly a bell in the House begins to toll) What's 
that for, Christy? 

CHRISTY 

Malachi O'Rourk, the Prince, as they called him, is 
dead. 

MUSKERRY 

Aye, I gave orders to toll him when he died. He was 
an estated gentleman, and songs were made about his 
family. People used to annoy him, but he's gone 
from them now. Bring me a little whisky, Christy. 
[^Christy goes to Cabinet. Muskerry follows him. 

CHRISTY 

There's none in the bottle, Mister Muskerry. 
MUSKERRY (bitterly) 

No, I suppose not. And is that rascal, Albert Crilly, 
coming back.'' 

CHRISTY 

He's coming. Mister Muskerry. I left the novelette 
on the table. Miss Coghlan says it's a nice love story. 
"The Heart of Angelina," it is called. 



174 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

MUSKERRY 

I haven't the heart to read. 

^The bell continues to toll. Christy goes to door. 

CHRISTY 

Good night, Mister Muskerry. 

MUSKERRY 

Good night, Christy. 

[^Christy Clarke goes out through apartments. Thomas 
Muskerry is standing with hand on arm chair. The 
bell tolls. 

CURTAIN 



ACT SECOND 

In Crillyi's, a month later. The room is the 'parlour off 
the shop. A glass door, right, leads into the shop, and the 
fireplace is above this door. In the hack, right, is a cup- 
hoard door. Back is a window looking on the street. A 
door, left, leads to other rooms. There is a table near 
shop door and a horse-hair sofa hack, an armchair at 
fire, and two leather-covered chairs about. Conventional 
pictures on walls, and two certificates framed, showing 
that some one in the house has passed some Intermediate 
examinations. 

It is the forenoon of an April day. Mrs. Crilly is 
seated on sofa, going through a heap of account books. 
Anna Crilly is at window. Crofton Crilly enters from the 
shop. 

CRILLY 

It's all right, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Well? 

CRILLY 

The Guardians insisted on appointing an outside 
person to take stock of the workhouse stores. It's 
the new regulation, you know. Well, the job lay 
between young Dobbs and Albert, and Albert has got 
it. I don't say but it was a near thing. 

MRS. CRILLY 

I hope Albert will know what to do. 



176 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

CRILLY 

He'll want to watch the points. Where's the Master? 

MRS. CRILLY 

He's in his room upstairs. 

CRILLY 

Was he not out this morning? 

MRS. CRILLY 

He's not dressed yet. 

CRILLY 

He was more particular when he was in the workhouse. 

ANNA 

I know who those two children are now. They are 
the new gas-manager's children. 

CRILLY 

He's a Scotchman. 

ANNA 

And married for the second time. Mother, Mrs. 
Dunne is going to the races. Such a sketch of a hat. 

MRS. CRILLY 

It would be better for her if she stayed at home and 
looked after her business. 

ANNA 

She won't have much business to look after soon. 
That's the third time her husband has come out of 
Farrell's public-house. 

CRILLY 

He's drinking with the Dispensary Doctor. Com- 
panions! They're the curse of this town, Marianne. 
{He sits down) 

ANNA 

She's walked into a blind man, hat and all. He's 
from the Workhouse. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 177 

CRILLY 

He's the blind piper out of the workhouse, Myles 
Gorman. 

MRS. CRILLY 

There's no one within. You should go into the shop, 
Anna. 

ANNA 

Yes, mother. (She crosses) James Scollard is coming 
in, mother, 

MRS. CRILLY 

Very well, Anna. Stay in the shop until Mary comes. 
[^Anna goes into the shop. Crilly moves about. 

MRS. CRILLY 

You're very uneasy. 

CRILLY 

Yes, I am uneasy, Marianne. There's some present- 
ment on me. Fifty pounds a year is a good pension 
for the old man. He's a month out now. He ought 
to be getting an instalment. 
\_Anna comes in from shop. 

ANNA 

Mother, the doctor's daughter is in the shop. 

MRS. CRILLY 

What does she want? 
ANNA {imitating an accent) 

Send up a pound of butter, two pounds of sugar, and 
a pound of tea. 

MRS. CRILLY 

These people are paying nobody. But we can't 
refuse her. I suppose we'll have to send them up. 
Be very distant with her, Anna. 

ANNA 

I've kept her waiting. Here's a letter, mother. ^ 



178 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

MRS. CRiLLY (taking letter) 
When did it come, Anna? 

ANNA 

It's just handed in. 

\^Anna goes out. Mrs. Crilly opens letter. 

MRS. CRILLY 

It's from the bank. They want me to call. What 
does the bank manager want with me, I wonder.? 

CRILLY 

I have something to tell you, Marianne. I'll tell 
you in a while. {He takes a turn up and down) 

MRS. CRILLY 

What do you want to tell me? 

CRILLY 

Prepare your mind, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLY 

What is it? 

CRILLY 

I owe you money, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Money! How do you owe me money? 

CRILLY ' 

That cute boy, James Covey, who took in all the 
town — 
MRS. CRILLY (rising) 

Covey! My God! You backed a bill for him? 

CRILLY 

I'll make a clean breast of it. I did. 
MRS. CRILLY (with fear in her eyes) 

How much is it? 
CRILLY (walking away to ivindow) 

I'll come to that, Marianne. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 179 

MRS. CRILLY 

Did any one back the bill with you? 

CRILLY 

I obliged the fellow. No one backed the bill with me. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Does any one know of it? 

CRILLY 

No, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLY 

The bank. . . . Tell me what happened. 

CRILLY 

The bank manager sent for me when he came to the 
town after Covey cleared. 

MRS. CRILLY 

We had four hundred pounds in the bank. 

CRILLY 

We had, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Tell me how much was the bill. 

CRILLY 

There's no use in beating about the bush. The bill 
was for three hundred pounds. 

MRS. CRILLY 

And what has the bank done? 

CRILLY 

I'm sorry to say, Marianne, the bank has taken the 
money over from our account. 

MRS. CRILLY 

You've ruined us at last, Crofton Crilly. 

CRILLY 

You should never forgive me, Marianne. I'll go to 
America and begin life again. {He turns to go out 
by shop) 



180 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

MRS. CRILLY 

We have no money left. 

CRILLY 

A hundred pounds, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLY 

That's Anna's money. 

CRILLY 

Scollard should be satisfied. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Anna insists on getting her money. 

CRILLY 

Very well, Marianne. I'll leave it all to yourself. 

\_James Scollard comes in. Anna is behind him. Scol- 
lard has an account book in his hand. 

SCOLLARD 

Good morning, Mrs. Crilly. Good morning, Mr. 
Crilly. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Good morning, Mr. Scollard. 
\_Crojton Crilly turns to go. 

ANNA 

Don't go, father. 

SCOLLARD 

Don't go, Mr. Crilly. I have something particular to 
say to yourself and Mrs. Crilly. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Sit down, Mr. Scollard. 

\_Anna brings chair, and Scollard sits center. Anna 

stands behind him. Mrs. Crilly sits left of him. 

SCOLLARD 

I am here to propose for the hand of your daughter. 
Miss Anna Crilly. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 181 

MRS. CJIILLY 

We have nothing to say against your proposal, Mr. 
Scollard. 

CRILLY 

Won't you take something, James? 

SCOLLARD 

No, thanks, Mr. Crilly. I never touch intoxicants, 
l^Crofton Crilly goes into shop. 

MRS. CRILLY 

We couldn't wish for a better match for Anna. But 
I feel bound to tell you, Mr. Scollard, that we have 
had a very severe loss in our business. 

ANNA 

What is it, mother? 

MRS. CRILLY 

I don't mind telling you. Mr. Crilly has made him- 
self responsible for a bill on the bank. 

SCOLLARD 

In whose interest, Mrs. Crilly? 

MRS. CRILLY 

He backed a bill for James Covey. A bill for three 
hundred pounds. 

ANNA 

Oh, mother! 

MRS. CRILLY 

It's a dead sure loss. I don't know what we are to 
do, Anna. 

SCOLLARD 

This is very bad, Mrs. Crilly. 

£Crofton Crilly comes back from shop. He brings in a 

glass of whisky. He puts lohisky on chimney-piece. 



182 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

MRS. CRILLY 

The bank has taken over three hundred pounds from 
our account. 

CRILLY 

Perhaps Scollard — 

SCOLLARD 

What were you saying, Mr. Crilly? 

CRILLY 

Oh, I was just thinking — about a bill you know — 
If some one would go security for us at the bank — 

ANNA 

Father, what are you saying? 

MRS. CRILLY 

It's unnecessary to talk like that. In spite of your 
foolishness, we still have a balance at the bank. 

ANNA 

My portion comes to me from my grandmother. 

SCOLLARD 

May I ask, Mrs. Crilly, is Miss Crilly's portion safe? 

MRS. CRILLY 

It is safe, Mr. Scollard. 

SCOLLARD 

I have been definitely appointed Master of the Union, 
and I may say that Anna and myself are anxious to 
marry. 

MRS. CRILLY 

It needn't be soon, Mr. Scollard. 

SCOLLARD 

After Easter, Mrs. Crilly. 

MRS. CRILLY 

But that's very soon. 

SCOLLARD 

I am anxious to settle down, Mrs. Crilly. I'm on my 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 183 

way to a meeting of the Board of Guardians, but 
before I go I'd like to have some more information 
about your loss. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Anna's portion is not touched, but we could hardly 
afford to let the money go from us now. 

SCOLLARD 

Is that so, Mrs. Crilly? 

MRS. CRILLY 

Three hundred pounds is a very severe loss. 

SCOLLARD 

Very severe, indeed. Still, you understand, Mrs. 
Crilly, the difficulties of taking such a step as marriage 
without adequate provision. 

CRILLY 

Damn it all, man, Marianne and myself married 
without anything at all. 
MRS. CRILLY (bitterly) 

Anna won't be such a fool as her mother. 

CRILLY 

Well, Scollard has his position, and we helped him to 
it. 

SCOLLARD 

I acknowledge that. 

ANNA ' 

Isn't my portion eighty pounds, mother.? 

MRS. CRILLY 

Yes, Anna. But I'd like to tell Mr. Scollard that it 
would come as a strain on us to let the money go at 
once. 

SCOLLARD 

I daresay, Mrs. Crilly. 



184 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

ANNA 

But, mother, wouldn't the money be safer with us? 

MRS. CRILLY 

Well, I leave the whole thing in the hands of Mr. 
Scollard. 

SCOLLARD 

Anna and myself have been talking things over, Mrs. 
Crilly. 

ANNA 

And we don't want to begin life in a poor way. 

SCOLLARD 

We see the advantage of being always solvent, Mrs. 
Crilly. 

ANNA 

James has ambitions, and there's no reason why he 
shouldn't venture for the post of Secretary of the 
County Council when old Mr. Dobbs retires. 

SCOLLARD 

In a few years, Mrs. Crilly, when I had more official 
experience and some reputation. 

ANNA 

Then he would have seven or eight hundred a year. 

SCOLLARD 

As I said, a man like myself would want to be in a 
perfectly solvent position. 

ANNA 

Besides, James has no money of his own. 

SCOLLARD 

I never had the chance of putting money by — Family 
calls, Mrs. Crilly. 

ANNA 

And we don't want to begin life in a poor way. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 185 

MRS. CRILLY 

You won't want the whole of the money. I'll give 
you forty pounds now. 

CRILLY 

And forty when the first child is born. 

ANNA 

Oh, father, how can you say such a thing? 

SCOLLARD 

I need only say this. Anna and myself were talking 
over affairs, and we came to the conclusion it would 
be best not to start with less than eighty pounds. 
{He rises) I have to go down to the Board Room 
now, for there is a meeting of the Guardians. {He 
goes towards door) 

CRILLY 

Won't you take a glass? 

SCOLLARD 

No, thanks, Mr. Crilly. I never touch stimulants. 

Good day to you all. 

\_He goes out. Crofton Crilly goes after him. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Anna, you won't be deprived of your money. 

ANNA 

Then what's the diflBculty, mother? 

MRS. CRILLY 

Let half of the money remain with us for a while. 

ANNA 

But, mother, if I don't get all my money, what secu- 
rity have I that what's left will be good in six months 
or a year? 

MRS. CRILLY 

I'll watch the money for you, Anna. 



186 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

ANNA 

It's hard to keep a hold on money in a town where 
business is going down. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Forty pounds will be given to you and forty pounds 
will be kept safe for you. 

ANNA 

Forty pounds! There's not a small farmer comes into 
the shop but his daughter has more of a dowry than 
forty pounds. 

MRS, CRILLY 

Think of all who marry without a dowry at all. 

ANNA 

You wouldn't have me go to James Scollard without a 
dowry.? 

MRS. CRILLY 

Well, you know the way we're situated. If you insist 
on getting eighty pounds we'll have to make an over- 
draft on the bank, and, in the way business is, I 
don't know how we'll ever recover it. 

ANNA 

There won't be much left out of eighty pounds when 
we get what suits us in furniture. 

MRS. CRILLY 

I could let you have some furniture. 

ANNA 

No, mother. We want to start in a way that is dif- 
ferent from this house. 

MRS. CRILLY 

You'll want all the money together? 

ANNA 

All of it, mother. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 187 

MRS. CRILLY 

You'll have to get it so. But you're very hard, Anna. 

ANNA 

This house would teach any one to look to themselves. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Come upstairs. {Anna goes, left) Three hundred 
pounds of a loss. Eighty pounds with that. I'm 
terrified when I think. (She goes after Anna) 
[Crofton Crilly comes in from shop. He takes glass of 
whisky from table, and sits down in arm chair. 

CRILLY 

I don't know what Marianne's to do at all. She has 
a shocking lot to contend with. Can anything be 
got from the old man, I wonder .f* 
[^Albert Crilly comes in by door, left. 

ALBERT 

Well, pa. 

CRILLY 

Well, Albert. What's the news in the town, Albert? 

ALBERT 

They say that you've backed a bill for Covey. 

CRILLY 

If your mother hears that kind of talk she'll be vexed, 
Albert. 

ALBERT 

But did you back the bill.'* 

CRILLY 

For Heaven's sake, let me alone, Albert. Yes, I 
backed the bill. 

ALBERT 

How much? 

CRILLY 

You'll hear all about it from your mother. 



188 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

ALBERT 

They say the bill was for three hundred. 

CRILLY 

It was three or thereabouts. 

ALBERT 

Ton my word, father, the mother will have to take 
out a mandamus against you. 
CRILLY {with parental dignity) 

Don't talk to me in that way, Sir. 

ALBERT 

It's scandalous, really. I expect you've ruined the 
business. 

CRILLY 

I hate the world and all its works and pomps. 

ALBERT 

I believe you've done for the business. I'm going 
away. 

CRILLY 

Then you've got the other appointment? 

ALBERT 

Temporary clerkship in the Land Department. I 
wonder would the mother let me have the money for 
clothes? 
CRILLY (desperately) 

Don't mention it at all to her. 

ALBERT 

I have a card from a Dublin tailor in my pocket. If 
I could pay him for one suit, I could get another on 
tick. 

CRILLY 

I tell you not to talk to your mother about money. 
That fellow, Scollard, has put her out. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 189 

ALBERT 

How's that? 
crilly' 

Money again. Wants the whole of Anna's portion 
down. And Anna's backing him up, too. I don't 
know how your mother can stand it. I don't hke 
ScoUard. Then you won't be staying on, Albert, to 
do the stocktaking in the Workhouse? 

ALBERT 

No; they'll have to get some one else. I'm glad to 
be out of that job. 

CRILLY 

I'm not sorry, Albert. 

ALBERT 

The mother would expect me to do something queer 
in my report. 

CRILLY 

Between you and me, Albert, women aren't acquainted 
with the working of affairs, and they expect unusual 
things to happen. Who will they make stocktaker, 
now? 

ALBERT 

Young Dobbs, likely. I suppose the whole business 
about the coal will come out then? 

CRILLY 

I suppose it will; but say nothing about it now, Albert. 
Let the hare sit. 

ALBERT 

What does the old man think about it now? 

CRILLY 

He's very close to himself. I think he has forgotten 
all about it. 



190 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

ALBERT 

I wouldn't say so. 

CRILLY 

Who's that in the shop, Albert? 

ALBERT 

Felix Tournour. 
CRILLY (rising) 

I wonder what they think about Scollard in the Poor- 
house. (He and Albert go into the shop as Muskerry 
enters from left) 

{^Muskerry is untidily dressed. His boots are unlaced. 
He walks across the room and speaks pettishly. 

MUSKERRY 

They haven't brought my soup yet. They won't 
give much of their time to me. I'm disappointed in 
Anna Crilly. Well, a certain share in this shop was 
to have gone to Anna Crilly. I'll get that share, and 
I'll hoard it up myself. I'll hoard it up. And the 
fifty pounds of my pension, I'll hoard that up, too. 
\^Albert comes in from shop. 

MUSKERRY 

That's a black fire that's in the grate. I don't like 
the coal that comes into this place. 

ALBERT 

Coal, eh, grandpapa. 

MUSKERRY 

I said coal. 

ALBERT 

We haven't good stores here. 

MUSKERRY 

Confound you for your insolence. 

ALBERT 

Somebody you know is in the shop — Felix Tournour. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 191 

MUSKERRY 

Bid Tournour come in to me. 
ALBERT (talking into the shop) 

You're wanted here, Tournour. Come in now or I'll 
entertain the boss with "The Devil's Rambles." 
(He turns to Muskerry) I was given the job of stock- 
taking. 

MUSKERRY 

That's a matter for yourself. 

ALBERT 

I don't think I'll take the job now. 

MUSKERRY 

Why won't you take it? 

ALBERT 

I don't know what to say about the fifty tons of coal. 

MUSKERRY 

I was too precipitate about the coal. But don't have 
me at the loss of fifty pounds through any of your 
smartness. 

ALBERT 

All right, grandfather; I'll see you through. 

MUSKERRY 

Confound you for a puppy. 

l^Felix Tournour enters. He looks prosperous. He has 

on a loud check suit. He wears a red tie and a peaked 

cap. 

ALBERT 

The Master wants to speak to you, Tournour. 

TOURNOUR 

What Master. 

ALBERT 

The boss, Tournour, the boss. 



192 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

MUSIy^ERRY 

I want you, and that's enough for you, Tournour. 

ALBERT 

I suppose you don't know, grandpapa, that Tournour 
has a middling high position in the Poorhouse now. 

MUSKERRY 

What are you saying? 

ALBERT 

Tournour is Ward-master now. 

MUSKERRY 

I wasn't given any notice of that. 

ALBERT 

Eh, Tournour — 

"The Devil went out for a ramble at night. 

Through Garrisowen Union to see every sight. 

He saw Felix Tournour — 

TOURNOUR 

"He saw one in comfort, of that you'll be sure. 

With his back to the fire stands Felix Tournour." 
\^He puts his back to fire. 

ALBERT 

Well, so-long, gents. (He goes out by shop door) 

MUSKERRY 

Let me see you, Tournour. 

TOURNOUR 

I'm plain to be seen. 

MUSKERRY 

Who recommended you for Ward-master? 

TOURNOUR 

Them that had the power. 

MUSKERRY 

I would not have done it, Tournour. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 193 

TOURNOUR 

No. And still, d'ye see, I'm up and not down. Well, 
I'll be going. 

MUSKERRY 

Come back here, Tournour. I made it a rule that no 
Ward-master should let drink be brought in to the 
paupers. 

TOURNOUR 

It's a pity you're not Master still! 

MUSKERRY 

What are you saying? 

TOURNOUR 

It's a pity that you're not still the Master over us. 

MUSKERRY 

Tournour, you're forgetting yourself. 

TOURNOUR 

Well, maybe you are still the Master. 

MUSKERRY 

How dare you speak to me with such effrontery? How 
dare you? 

TOURNOUR 

I dunno. I'm going away now, if your honour 
has nothing more to say to me. {He turns to go) 

MUSKERRY 

You shall not. You shall not, I say. 

TOURNOUR 

What? 

MUSKERRY 

You shall not go away until you've apologised to me. 

TOURNOUR 

Don't be talking, Thomas Muskerry. You're not 
Master over me. 



194 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

MUSKERRY 

Not the Master over you? 

TOURNOUR 

No. There's an end to your sway, Mr. Muskerry. 

MUSKERRY 

Go out of the house. No, stay here. You think I'm 
out of the Workhouse. No. That's not so. I've 
claims, great claims, on it still. Not for nothing was 
I there for thirty years, the pattern for the oflBcials of 
Ireland. 

TOURNOUR 

Twenty-nine years, I'm telling you. 

MUSKERRY 

The Guardians will take account of me. 

TOURNOUR 

And maybe they would, too. 

MUSKERRY 

What's that you're saying? 

TOURNOUR 

The Guardians might take an account of Thomas 
Muskerry in a way he mightn't like. {He goes to door) 

MUSKERRY 

Come back here, Felix Tournour. 

TOURNOUR 

I'm not your sub-servant. 

MUSKERRY 

Stand here before me. 

TOURNOUR 

You and your before me! Your back to heaven and 
your belly to hell. 

MUSKERRY 

Go away. Go away out of this. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 195 

TOURNOUR 

Don't try to down-face me. I know something about 
you. 

MUSKERRY 

About me! 

TOURNOUR 

Aye, you and your fifty tons of coal. {Muskerry goes 
hack from him) Great claims on the Workhouse have 
you. The Guardians will take account of you. Will 
they? Talk to them about the fifty tons of coal. Go 
and do that, my pattern of the officials of Ireland! 
\_Tournour goes out by shop. Muskerry stands with 
his hands on the arm chair. 

MUSKERRY 

This minute I'll go down to the Guardians and make 
my complaint. (He notices his appearance) I'm 
going about all day with my boots unlaced. I'm 
falling into bad ways, bad, slovenly w\ays. And my 
coat needs brushing, too. (He takes off his coat and 
goes to window and brushes it) That's Myles Gorman 
going back to the Workhouse. I couldn't walk with 
my head held as high as that. In this house I am 
losing my uprightness. I'll do more than lace my 
boots and brush my coat. I'll go down to the Guard- 
ians and I'll pay them back their fifty pounds. 
l^Anna Crilly comes in froin left with a bowl of soup. 

ANNA 

Here's your soup, grandpapa. 

MUSKERRY 

I can't take it now, Anna. (He puts on his coat) 

ANNA 

Are you going out, grandpapa? 



196 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

MUSKERRY 

I'm going before the meeting of the Board of Guardians. 

ANNA 

Are you, grandpapa? 

MUSKERRY 

Yes, Anna, I am. I'm going to pay them back their 
fifty pounds. 

ANNA 

And have you the fifty pounds? 

MUSKERRY 

Your mother has it for me. 

ANNA 

Sit down, grandpapa, and take your soup. 

MUSKERRY 

No, Anna, I won't take anything until ray mind is at 
rest about the coal. A certain person has spoken to 
me in a way I'll never submit to be spoken to again. 
\^Mrs. Crilly comes in. 

MRS. CRILLY 

What has happened to you? 

MUSKERRY 

Felix Tournour knows about the coal, Marianne. He 
can disgrace me before the world. 

ANNA 

And grandpapa wants to go before the Guardians 
and pay them back the fifty pounds. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Wait until we consult Mr. ScoUard. 

\_Anna goes out. 

MUSKERRY 

No, Marianne. I'm not going to be a party to this 
any longer. I'm going before the Guardians, and I'll 
pay them back their fifty pounds. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 197 

MRS. CRILLY 

Fifty pounds. From what place is fifty pounds to 
come so easily? 

MUSKERRY 

I'll ask you to give me the fifty pounds, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLY 

I'll do no such thing. Anna is getting married, and 
she claims her fortune. 

MUSKERRY 

Anna getting married. This was kept from me. And 
who is Anna getting married to? 

MRS. CRILLY 

To James Scollard. 

MUSKERRY 

To James Scollard. And so Anna is getting married 
to my successor, James Scollard. My successor. 
How well I knew there was some such scheme behind 
shifting me out of the Workhouse. And Anna Crilly 
was against me all the time. Well, well, well. I'll 
remember this. 

MRS. CRILLY 

I'm at great losses since you came here. 

MUSKERRY 

I'm at greater losses, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLY 

What losses are you at? 

MUSKERRY 

The loss of my trust, the loss of my dignity, my self- 
respect, and — 

MRS. CRILLY 

I think we did all we could for you. 

MUSKERRY 

I'm going out now to pay back the Guardians the sum 



198 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

due to them from me. I want fifty pounds from you. 
I claim it, and I have a right to claim it. 

MRS. CRILLY 

We have no money at all. Listen. Crofton Crilly 
backed a bill for James Covey, and three hundred 
pounds has been taken from our account. 

MUSKERRY 

Three hundred pounds! 

MRS. CRILLY 

Yes. Three hundred pounds. 

MUSKERRY 

He backed a bill for three hundred pounds. And do 
you think, Marianne Crilly, there can be any luck, 
in a house where such a thing could happen? I tell 
you there is no luck nor grace in your house. {He puts 
on his hat and goes to cupboard to get his stick. He 
opens the clipboard. He turns round) 
MUSKERRY (greatly moved) 

My God, my God. I'm made cry at the things that 
happen in this house. 

MRS. CRILLY 

What is it? 

MUSKERRY 

The good meat I brought in. There it is on the floor 
and the cat mangling it. I'll go out of this house, 
and I'll never put foot into it again. 

MRS. CRILLY 

And where will you go? 

MUSKERRY 

I'll go before the Board of Guardians and I'll ask 
them to provide for me. 

MRS. CRILLY 

What do you want me to do for you? 



THOISIAS MUSKERRY 199 

MUSKERRY 

Give me fifty pounds, so that I can pay them off now. 

MRS, CRILLY 

Haven't I told you the way I'm straitened for money? 

MUSKERRY 

You have still in the bank what would save my name. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Don't be unreasonable. I have to provide for my 
children. 

MUSKERRY 

Your children. Yes, you have to provide for your 
children. I provided for them long enough. And 
now you would take my place, my honour, and my 
self-respect, and provide for them over again. {He 
goes out) 

MRS. CRILLY 

I'll have to put up with this, too. 
\^Anna re-enters. 

ANNA 

Where has he gone, mother? 

MRS. CRILLY 

He has gone down to the Workhouse. 

ANNA 

What is he going to do, mother? 

MRS. CRILLY 

He says he will ask the Guardians to provide for him. 

ANNA 

It's not likely they'll do that for a man with a pension 
of fifty pounds a year. 

MRS. CRILLY 

I don't know what will happen to us. 

ANNA 

He'll come back, mother. 



200 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

MRS. CRILLY 

He will. But everything will have been made public, 
and the money will have to be paid. 

ANNA (at the window) 

There he is going down the street, mother. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Which way? 

ANNA 

Towards the Workhouse. And here's the doctor's 
daughter coming into the shop again, mother. 

MRS. CRILLY 

I'll go out and see her myself. {As she goes out she 
hands Anna a cheque) That's the last cheque I'll be 
able to make out. There's your eighty pounds, 
Anna. (She goes into the shop) 

ANNA 

We can begin to get the furniture now. 

\^She sits doivn at the tabic and makes some calculation 

with a 'pencil. 

CURTAIN 



ACT THIRD 

The infirm ward in the Workhouse. Entrance from 
corridor, right. Forward, left, are three beds with bedding 
folded upon them. Back, left, is a door leading into Select 
Ward. This door is closed, and a large key is in lock. 
Fireplace with a grating around it, left. Back, right, is a 
window with little leaded panes. 

It is noon on a May day, but the light inside the ward is 
feeble. 

Two paupers are seated at fire. One of them, Mickie 
Cripes, is a man of fifty, stooped and hollow-chested, but 
with quick blue eyes. The other man, Tom Shanley, is 
not old, but he looks broken and listless. Myles Gorman, 
still in pauper dress, is standing before window, an ex- 
pectant look on his face. 

Thomas Muskerry enters from corridor. He wears his 
own clothes, but he has let them get into disorder. His 
hair and beard are disordered, and he seems very much 
broken down. Nevertheless, he looks as if his mind 
were composed. 

MUSKERRY 

It's dark in here, Michael. 

CRIPES 

It is, sir. 

MUSKERRY 

I find it very spiritless after coming up from the 
chapel. Don't pass your whole day here. Go down 
into the yard. (He stands before the loindow) This 
is the first fine day, and you ought to go out along 



202 THOIVIAS MUSKERRY 

the country road. Ask the Master for leave. It's 
the month of May, and you'll be glad of the sight of 
the grass and the smell of the bushes. Now here's a 
remarkable thing. I venture to think that the like 
of this has never happened before. Here are the 
bees swarming at the window pane. 

GORMAN 

You'll hear my pipes on the road to-day. That's as 
sure as the right hand is on my body. {He goes out 
by corridor door) 

CRIPES 

Myles Gorman must have been glad to hear that 
buzzing. 

MUSKERRY 

Why was Myles glad to hear it? 

SHANLEY 

He was leaving on the first fine day. 

CRIPES 

The buzzing at the pane would let any one know 
that the air is nice for a journey. 

MUSKERRY 

I am leaving to-day, myself. 

CRIPES 

And where are you going, Mr. Muskerry? 

MUSKERRY 

I'm going to a place of my own. 
{^Muskerry goes into the Select Ward. 

CRIPES 

I'll tell you what brought Thomas Muskerry back 
to the workhouse to be an inmate in it. Living in a 
bad house. Living with his own. That's what 
brought him back. And that's what left me here, 
too. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 203 

SHANLEY (listlessly) 

The others have the flour, and we may hawk the bran. 
\^An old pauper comes into the ward. His face looks 
bleached. He has the handle of a sweeping-brush for a 
staff. He moves about the ward, muttering to himself. 
He seats himself on chair, right. 

THE OLD MAN (speaking as if thinking aloud) 

I was at twelve o'clock Mass. Now one o'clock 
would be a late Mass, I was at Mass at one o'clock. 
Wouldn't that be a long time to keep a priest, and 
he fasting the whole time? 

CRIPES 

I'll tell you what Thomas Muskerry did when he left 
the bad house he was in. (He puts coal on the fire) 

THE OLD MAN 

I was at one o'clock Mass in Skibbereen. I know 
where Skibbereen is well. In the County Cork. Cork 
is a big county. As big as Dublin and Wicklow. 
That's where the people died when there was the 
hunger. 

CRIPES 

He came before the meeting of the Guardians, and 
he told them he owed them the whole of his year's 
pension. Then he got some sort of a stroke, and he 
broke down. And the Guardians gave him the Select 
Ward there for himseK. 

SHANLEY 

They did well for him. 

CRIPES 

Why wouldn't they give him the Select Ward? It's 
right that he'd get the little room, and not have to 
make down the pauper's bed with the rest of us. 



204 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

SIIANLEY 

He was at the altar to-day, and he stayed in the chapel 
after Mass. 

GRIPES 

He'll be here shortly. 

THE OLD MAN 

Skibbereen! That's where the people died when there 
was the hunger. Men and women without coffins, 
or even their clothes off. Just buried. Skibbereen I 
remember well, for I was a whole man then. And 
the village. For there are people living in it yet. 
They didn't all die. 

SHANLEY 

We'll have somebody else in the Select Ward this 
evening. 

GRIPES 

That's what they were talking about. The nuns are 
sending a patient up here. 

SHANLEY 

I suppose the Ward-master will be in here to regulate 
the room. {He rises) 

GRIPES 

Aye, the Ward-master. Felix Tournour, the Ward- 
master. You've come to your own place at last, Felix 
Tournour. 

SHANLEY 

Felix Tournour will be coming the master over me if 
he finds me here. {Shanley goes out) 

GRIPES 

FeUx Tournour ! That's the lad that will be coming in 
with his head up like the gander that's after beating 
down a child. 
\_Christy Clarke enters. He carries a little portmanteau. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 205 

CHRISTY 

Is Mr. Muskerry here? 

CRIPES 

He's in the room. (A sound of water splashing and the 
movements of a heavy person are heard) Will you be 
speaking with him, young fellow? 

CHRISTY 

I will. 

CRIPES 

Tell him, like a good little boy, that the oul' men 
would be under a favour to him if he left a bit of 
tobacco. You won't forget that? 

CHRISTY 

I won't forget it. 

CRIPES 

I don't want to be in the way of Felix Tournour. 
We're going down to the yard, but we'll see Mr. 
Muskerry when he's going away. 
£Cripes goes out. 
MUSKERRY (within) 

Is that you, Christy Clarke? 

CHRISTY 

It is, Mr. Muskerry. 

MUSKERRY 

Have you any news, Christy? 

CHRISTY 

No news, except that my mother is in the cottage, and 
is expecting you to-day. 

MUSKERRY 

I'll be in the cottage to-day, Christy. I'm cleaning 
myself. (A sound of splashing and moving about) The 
Guardians were good to get the little house for me. 
I'd as lieve be there as in a mansion. There's about 



206 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

half an acre of land to the place, and I'll do work on 
the ground from time to time, for it's a good thing 
for a man to get the smell of the clay. 

CHRISTY 

And how are you in health, Mr. Muskerry? 

MUSKERRY 

I'm very well in health. I was anointed, you know, 
and after that I mended miraculously. 

CHRISTY 

And what about the pension.'' 

MUSKERRY 

I'm getting three hundred pounds. They asked me 
to realize the pension. I hope I have life enough 
before me. (He comes out. He has on trousers, coat, 
and starched shirt. The shirt is soiled and crushed) 

MUSKERRY 

On Saturdays I'll do my marketing. I'll come into 
the town, and I'll buy the bit of meat for my dinner 
on Sunday. But what are you doing with this port- 
manteau, Christy? 

CHRISTY 

I'm going away myself. 

MUSKERRY 

To a situation, is it? 

CHRISTY 

To a situation in Dublin, 

MUSKERRY 

I wish you luck, Christy, (He shakes hands with the 
boy, and sits down on a chair) I was dreaming on new 
things all last night. New shirts, new sheets, every- 
thing new, 

CHRISTY 

I want to be something. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 207 

MUSKERRY 

What do you want to be? 

CHRISTY 

A writer. 

MUSKERRY 

A writer of books, is it? 

CHRISTY 

Yes, a writer of books. 

MUSKERRY 

Listen, now, and tell me do you hear anything. That's 
the sound of bees swarming at the window. That's a 
good augury for you, Christy. 

CHRISTY 

All life's before me. 

MUSKERRY 

Will you give heed to what I tell you? 

CHRISTY 

I'll give heed to it, Mr. Muskerry. 

MUSKERRY 

Live a good life. 

CHRISTY 

I give heed to you. 

MUSKERRY 

Your mother had great hardship in rearing you. 

CHRISTY 

I know that, Mr. Muskerry, but now I'm able for the 
world. 

MUSKERRY 

I wish success to all your efforts. Be very careful of 
your personal appearance. 

CHRISTY 

I will, Mr. Muskerry. 



208 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

MUSKERRY 

Get yourself a new cravat before you leave the town. 

CHRISTY 

I'll get it. 

MUSKERRY 

I think I'd look better myself if I had a fresher shirt. 

CHRISTY 

I saw clean shirts of yours before the fire last night 
in my mother's house. 

MUSKERRY 

I wish I could get one before I leave this place. 

CHRISTY 

Will I run off and get one for you? 

MUSKERRY 

Would you, Christy? Would it be too much trouble? 

\_Muskerry rises. 

CHRISTY 

I'll go now. 

MUSKERRY 

You're a very willing boy, Christy, and you're sure 
to get on. {He goes to a little broken mirror on the icall) 
I am white and loose of flesh, and that's not a good 
sign with me, Christy. I'll tell you something. If 
I were staying here to-night, it's the pauper's bed I'd 
have to sleep on. 
\_Mrs. Crilly comes to the door. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Well, I see you're making ready for your departure. 
MUSKERRY {ivho htts become uneasy) 
I am ready for my departure. 

MRS. CRILLY 

And this young man has come for you, I suppose? 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 209 

MUSKERRY 

This young man is minding his own business. 

CHRISTY 

I'm going out now to get a shirt for the Master. 

MRS. CRILLY 

A starched shirt, I suppose, Christy. Go down to 
our house, and tell Mary to give you one of the shirts 
that are folded up. 

MUSKERRY 

The boy will go where he was bid go. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Oh, very well. Run, Christy, and do the message for 

the Master. 

[^Christy Clarke goes out. 

MUSKERRY 

I don't know what brought you here to-day. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Well, I wanted to see you. 

MUSKERRY 

You could come to see me when I was settled down. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Settled in the cottage the Guardians have given you? 

MUSKERRY 

Yes, ma'am. 
MRS. CRILLY (with nervous excitement, restrained) 
No one of us will ever go near the place. 

MUSKERRY 

Well, you'll please yourself. 

MRS. CRILLY 

You put a slight on us all when you go there to live. 

MUSKERRY 

Well, I've lived with you to my own loss. 



210 THOIVIAS ^lUSKERRY 

MRS. CRILLY 

Our house is the best house in the town, and I'm 
the nearest person to you. 

MUSKERRY 

Say nothing more about that. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Well, maybe you do right not to live with us, but 
you ought not to forsake us altogether. 

MUSKERRY 

And what do you mean by forsaking you altogether.? 

MRS. CRILLY 

When you leave the place and do not even turn your 
step in our direction it's a sign to all who want to 
know that you forsake us altogether. 

MUSKERRY 

What do you want me to do? 

MRS. CRILLY 

Come up to Cross Street with me, have dinner and 
spend the night with us. People would have less 
to talk about if you did that. 

MUSKERRY 

You always have a scheme. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Come to us for this evening itself. 

MUSKERRY 

I wish you wouldn't trouble me, woman. Can't you 
see that when I go out of this I want to go to my own 
place? 

MRS. CRILLY 

You can go there to-morrow. 

MUSKERRY 

Preparations are made for me. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 211 

MRS. CRILLY 

You don't know what preparations. 

MUSKERRY 

Two pounds of the best beef-steak were ordered to 
be sent up to-day. 

MRS. CRILLY 

I wouldn't trust that woman, Mrs. Clarke, to cook 
potatoes. 

MUSKERRY 

Well, I'll trust her, ma'am. 
MRS. CRILLY {taldng Muskerry's sleeve) 
Don't go to-day, anyway. 

MUSKERRY 

You're very anxious to get me to come with you. 
What do you want from me? 

MRS. CRILLY 

We want nothing from you. You know how insecure 
our business is. When it's known in the town that 
you forsake us, everybody will close in on us. 

MUSKERRY 

God knows I did everything that a man could do for 
you and yours. I won't forget you. I haven't much 
life left to me, and I want to live to myself. 

MRS. CRILLY 

I know. Sure I lie awake at night, too tired to sleep, 
and long to get away from the things that are pressing 
in on me. I know that people are glad of their own 
way, and glad to live in the way that they like. When 
I heard the birds stirring I cried to be away in some 
place where I won't hear the thing that's always 
knocking at my head. The business has to be minded, 
and it's slipping away from us like water. And 
listen, if my confinement comes on me and I worried 



212 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

as I was last year, nothing can save me. I'll die, 
surely. 
MUSKERRY (moved) 

What more do you want me to do? 

MRS. CRILLY 

Stay with us for a while, so that we'll have the name 
of your support. 

MUSKERRY 

I'll come back to you in a week. 

MRS. CRILLY 

That wouldn't do at all. There's a reason for what 
I ask. The town must know that you are with us 
from the time you leave this. 
MUSKERRY {with emotion) 

God help me with you all, and God direct me what to 
do. 

MRS. CRILLY 

It's not in you to let us down. 

\_Muskerry turns away. His head is bent. Mrs. 

Crilly goes to him. 

MUSKERRY 

Will you never be done taking from me? I want to 
leave this and go to a place of my own. 
{_Muskerry 'puts his hand to his eyes. When he lowers 
his hand again Mrs. Crilly lays hers in it. Christy 
Clarke comes in. Muskerry turns to him. Muskerry 
has been crying. 

MUSKERRY 

Well, Christy, I'll be sending you back on another 

message. 

[^Mrs. Crilly makes a sign to Christy not to speak. 

MUSKERRY 

Go to your mother and tell her — 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 213 

CHRISTY 

I met my mother outside. 

MUSKERRY 

Did she get the things that were sent to her? 

CHRISTY 

My mother was sent away from the cottage. 

MUSKERRY 

Who sent your mother away from the cottage? 

CHRISTY 

Mrs. Crilly sent her away. 

MUSKERRY 

And why did you do that, ma'am? 

MRS. CRILLY 

I sent Mary to help to prepare the place for you, and 
the woman was impertinent to Mary — 

MUSKERRY 

Well, ma'am? 

MRS. CRILLY 

I sent the woman away. 

MUSKERRY 4 

And so you take it on yourself to dispose of the ser- 
vants in my house? 

MRS. CRILLY 

I daresay you'll take the woman's part against my 
daughter. 

MUSKERRY 

No, ma'am, I'll take no one's side, but I'll tell you 
this. I want my own life, and I won't be interfered 
with. 

MRS. CRILLY 

I'm sorry for what occurred, and I'll apologise to the 
boy's mother if you like. 



214 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

MUSKERRY 

I won't be interfered with, I tell you. From this day 
out I'm free of my own life. And now, Christy 
Clarke, go down stairs and tell the Master, Mr. 
Scollard, that I want to see him. 
\_Christy Clarke goes out. 

MRS. CRILLY 

I may as well tell you something else. None of the 
things you ordered were sent up to the cottage. 

MUSKERRY 

Do you tell me that? 

MRS. CRILLY 

I went round to the shop, and everything you ordered 
was sent to us. 

MUSKERRY 

And what is the meaning of that, ma'am? 

MRS. CRILLY 

If the town knew you were going from us, in a week 
we would have to put up the shutters. 

MUSKERRY 

Well, I'll walk out of this, and when I come to the 
road I'll go my own way. 

MRS. CRILLY 

We can't prevent you. 

MUSKERRY 

No, ma'am, you can't prevent me. 

MRS. CRILLY 

You've got your discharge, I suppose? 

MUSKERRY 

I've given three hours' notice, and I'll get my dis- 
charge now. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 215 

MRS. CRiLLY (at corridoT door) 

We can't prevent you going if you have the doctor's 
discharge. 

MUSKERRY 

The doctor's discharge! He would have given it to 
me — 

MRS. CRILLY 

You can't leave without the doctor's sanction. 

MUSKERRY 

Out of this house I will go to-day. 

\^James Scollard enters. 

SCOLLARD 

I believe you want to see me, Mr. Muskerry, 

MUSKERRY 

I do, Mr. Scollard. I am leaving the house. 

SCOLLARD 

I will be glad to take up the necessary formalities 
for you, Mr. Muskerry. 

MRS. CRILLY 

First of all, has the doctor marked my father off the 
infirmary list? 

SCOLLARD 

No, Mrs. Crilly. Now that I recall the list, he has 
not. 

MUSKERRY 

I waited after Mass to-day, and I missed seeing him. 

MRS. CRILLY 

My father was seriously ill only a short time ago, 
and I do not believe he is in a fit state to leave the 
infirmary. 

SCOLLARD 

That certainly has to be considered. Without the 
doctor explicitly sending you down to the body of 



216 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

the house you are hardly under my jurisdiction, Mr. 
Muskerry. 

MUSKERRY 

Mr. Scollard, I ask you to give me leave to go out of 
the Workhouse for a day. You can do this on your 
own responsibility. 

MRS. CRILLY 

In the present state of his mind it's not likely he 
would return to-night. Then if anything happened 
him your situation is at stake. 

MUSKERRY 

I'm not a pauper. I'll go out of this to-day without 
leave or license from any of you. 

SCOLLARD 

As you know yourself, Mr. Muskerry, it would be 
as much as my situation is worth to let you depart 
in that way. 

MUSKERRY 

Well, go I will. 

SCOLLARD 

I cannot permit it, Mr. Muskerry. I say it with 
the greatest respect. 

MUSKERRY 

How long will you keep me here? 

SCOLLARD 

Until the doctor visits the house. 

MUSKERRY 

That will be on Monday morning. 

SCOLLARD 

And this is Saturday, Mr. Muskerry. 

MUSKERRY 

And where will you put me until Monday? 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 217 

SCOLLARD 

Other arrangements will be made for you. 

MUSKERRY 

It's the pauper's bed you would give me! 

SCOLLARD 

The old arrangements will continue. Can I do any- 
thing further for you, Mr. Muskerry? 

MUSKERRY 

No, you can do nothing further for me. It's a 
great deal you have done for me! It's the pau- 
per's bed you have given me! {He goes into the 
Select Ward) 

MRS. CRILLY 

Sit down, Mr. Scollard. I want to speak to you. 
\_Mrs. Crilly seats herself at the table. Scollard sits down 
also. 

MRS. CRILLY 

The bank manager is in the town to-day, and there are 
people waiting to tell him whether my father goes to 
our house or goes away from us. 

SCOLLARD 

No doubt there are, Mrs. Crilly. 

MRS. CRILLY 

But you have nothing to do with that, Mr. Scollard. 

SCOLLARD 

No, Mrs. Crilly. 

MRS. CRILLY 

I have my own battle to fight, and a hard battle it is. 
I have to make bits of myself to mind everything and 
be prepared for everything. 

SCOLLARD 

No doubt, Mrs. Crilly. 



218 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

MRS. CRILLY 

There are people who will blame me, but they cannot 
see into my mind. 

SCOLLARD 

Will you come down to the parlour, Mrs. Crilly? 

MRS. CRILLY 

Yes, I'll go down. 

l^She remains seated, looking out steadily before her. 
Myles Gorman comes in. He is dressed in his own 
clothes, 

SCOLLARD 

Well, Gorman, what brings you back to the ward? 

GORMAN 

I just want to do something to my pipes, Master. 

SCOLLARD 

Very well, Gorman. You have your discharge, and 
you are free to leave. 

GORMAN 

Oh, in a while I'll be taking the road. 

\_He seats himself at the fire and begins to fix the bag of 

his pipes. 

SCOLLARD 

Now, Mrs. Crilly, come down to the parlour. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Yes. 

SCOLLARD 

Anna is waiting to see you. 
MRS. CRILLY (rising) 

He will be well cared for here. 

SCOLLARD 

He will, Mrs. Crilly. I will give him all attention. 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 219 

MRS. CRILLY 

He expected to be in a different place to-day, but 
delay does little harm. 

SCOLLARD 

Come down to the parlour, Mrs. Crilly, and drink a 
glass of wine with us. 

\_They go out. The door of the Select Ward opens, and 
Thomas Muskerry appears. He has got a stroke. His 
breathing makes a noise in his mouth. As he moves he 
lags somewhat at the right knee. He carries his right 
hand at his breast. He moves slowly across ward. Felix 
Tournour enters, carrying a bunch of keys. 

TOURNOUR 

And where are you going? 
MUSKERRY {in a thickened voice) 

Ow — out. (Motioning with left hand. He moves 
across ward, and goes out on door of corridor) 

TOURNOUR 

Well, you're not getting back to your snuggery, my 
oul' cod. (He goes into the Select Ward and begins to 
pitch Muskerry's belongings into the outer ward. First 
of all come the pillows and clothes off the bed) And 
there's your holy picture, and there's your holy book. 
(He comes out holding another book in official binding. 
He opens it and reads) "Marianne, born May the 
20th, 1870." (He turns back some pages and reads) 
Thomas Muskerry wrote this, 1850 — 
"In the pleasant month of May, 

When the lambkins sport and play, 
As I roved out for recreation, 

I spied a comely maid. 

Sequestered in the shade, 
And on her beauty I gazed in admiration. 



220 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

"I said I greatly fear 

That Mercury will draw near, 
As once he appeared unto Venus, 

Or as it might have been 

To the Carthaginian Queen, 

Or the Grecian Wight called Polyphemus." 
^Muskerry comes back to the ward. He stands looking 
stupidly at the heap Tournour has thrown out. Tournour 
throws down the book. Muskerry goes towards the open 
door of the ward. Felix Tournour closes the door delib- 
erately, turns the key and holds the key in his hand. 

TOURNOUR 

You have no more to do with your snug little ward, 

Mr. Muskerry. (He puts the key on his bunch and 

goes out) 
MUSKERRY (muttering with slack lips and cheeks) 

It's — it's — the pau — pauper's bed they've given 

me. 
GORMAN (turning round his face) 

Who's there.? 

MUSKERRY 

It's — it's — Thomas Muskerry. 

GORMAN 

Is that the Master? 

MUSKERRY 

It's — it's the pauper's bed they've given me. 

GORMAN 

Can I give you any hand. Master? 

MUSKERRY 

I'll want to make — the bed. Give me a hand to 
make the bed. (Gorman comes over to him) My own 
sheet and blanket is here. I needn't lie on a pauper's 
sheet. Whose bed is this? 



THOISIAS IVIUSKERRY 221 

GORMAN 

It's the middle bed, Master. It's my own bed. 

MUSKERRY (helplessly) 

What bed will I take, then? 

GORMAN 

My bed. I won't be here. 

MUSKERRY 

And where are you going? 

GORMAN 

I'm leaving the house this day. I'll be going on the 
roads. 

MUSKERRY 

Myles — Myles Gorman. The man that was without 
family or friends. Myles Gorman. Help me to lay 
down the mattress. Where will you sleep to-night, 
Myles Gorman? 

GORMAN 

At Mrs. Muirnan's, a house between this and the 
town of Ballinagh. I haven't the money to pay, but 
she'll give me the place for to-night. Now, Master, 
I'll spread the sheet for you. 
\_They spread the sheet on the bed. 

MUSKERRY 

Can you go down the stairs, Myles Gorman? I tried 
to^et down the stairs and my legs failed me. 

GORMAN 

One of the men will lead me down. 
MUSKERRY {resting his hand on the bed and standing up) 
Sure one of the men will lead me down the stairs, too. 
\^Myles Gorman spreads blanket on bed. He stands up, 
takes pipes, and is ready to go out. Muskerry becomes 
more feeble. He puts himself on the bed. 



222 THOMAS MUSKERRY 

MUSKERRY 

Myles — Myles Gorman — come back. 

GORMAN 

What will I do for you, Master? 

MUSKERRY 

Say a prayer for me. 

GORMAN 

What prayer will I say, Master? 

MUSKERRY 

Say "God be good to Thomas Muskerry." 
GORMAN (taking off his hat) 

"God be good to Thomas Muskerry, the man who 
was good to the poor." Is that all. Master? 

MUSKERRY 

That's — that's all. 
[^Gorman goes to the door. 

GORMAN 

In a little while you'll hear my pipes on the road. 
\^He goes out. There is the sound of heavy breathing from 
the bed. Then silence. The old pauper with the staff 
enters. He is crossing the ward when his attention is 
taken by the humming of the bees at the window pane. 
He listens for a moment. 

THE OLD PAUPER 

A bright day, and the clay on their faces. That's 
what I saw. And we used to be coming from Mass 
and going to the coursing match. The hare flying 
and the dogs stretching after her up the hill. Fine 
dogs and fine men. I saw them all, 
{^Christy Clarke comes in. He goes to table for his bag. 
He sees the figure on the bed, and goes over. 

CHRISTY 

I'm going now, Mister Muskerry. Mister Muskerry! 



THOMAS MUSKERRY 223 

_ ii . 

Mister Muskerry ! Oh! the Master is dead. {Reruns 
hack to the door) Mrs. Crilly. Mrs. Crilly. {He goes 
hack to the hed, and throws himself on his knees) Oh! 
I'm sorry you're gone, Thomas Muskerry. 

THE OLD PAUPER 

And is he gone home, too! And the bees humming 

and all! He was the best of them. Each of his 

brothers could lift up their plough and carry it to 

the other side of the field. Four of them could clear a 

fair. But their fields were small and poor, and so they 

scattered. 

l^Mrs. Crilly comes in. 

MRS. CRILLY 

Christy Clarke, what is it-f* 

CHRISTY 

The Master is dead. 

MRS. CRILLY 

My God, my God! 

CHRISTY 

Will I go and tell them below? 

MRS. CRILLY 

No. Bring no one here yet. We killed him. When 
everything is known that will be known. 

CHRISTY 

I'll never forget him, I think. 

MRS. CRILLY 

What humming is that? 

CHRISTY 

The bees at the window pane. And there's Myles 
Gorman's pipes on the road. 
[_The clear call of the pipes is heard. 

END OF PLAY 



"Thomas Muskerry" was first produced on May 5th, 
1910, by the Abbey Theater Company, at the Abbey 
Theater, Dubhn, with the following cast: — 

Thomas Muskerry Arthur Sinclair 

Mrs. Crilly Sara Allgood 

Crofton Crilly J. M. Kerrigan 

Albert Crilly Eric Gorman 

Anna Crilly Maire O'Neill 

Myles Gorman Fred O'Donovan 

Felix Tournour Sydney Morgan 

James Scollard J. A. O'Rourke 

Christy Clarke U. Wright 

MiCKiE Cripes Fred Rowland 

Tom Shanley Ambrose Power 

An Old Pauper J. M. Kerrigan 



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